Choosing His Team
by Tipper
Summary: The first couple of days on Atlantis—the new arrivals find some dangerous surprises in their new home, and Sheppard has to choose the members of the flagship team COMPLETE
1. Chapter 1

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one. The premise, characters and setting were all dreamed up and developed by the wonderful writers, directors, producers, actors and crew of Stargate Atlantis, and are owned by the same, as well as MGM, Gecko and the other corporate owners.

Parts/Status: 11  
Characters: Team (Sheppard, McKay, Teyla and Ford -- all four points of view)  
Feedback: would make me deliriously happy.  
Associates in crime: Thanks NT and Sablecain!

A/N: This story was born of three little questions: first, how did Sheppard choose his team; second, if Atlantis has been lost for 10,000 years and is considered the sacred home of the Ancestors, how did the Athosians so readily accept the idea of living there? (I mean, if you suddenly found yourself living in Mount Olympus, for example, wouldn't you be just a tad overwhelmed?); and third, how did Halling hurt his leg?

A/N 2: The events in this story take place between Rising and progressing through Hide & Seek. It begins the morning after the party with the Athosians, welcoming them all to their new home.

Description: The first couple of days on Atlantis—the new arrivals, both the Earth folk and the Athosians, are coming to terms with their new home, and Sheppard has to choose the members of the flagship team.

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CHAPTER ONE: GOOD MORNING ATLANTIS

Sheppard groaned as his alarm clock beeped noisily by his head, the irritating noise invading his subconscious with all the subtlety of a Mel Brooks movie.

He'd always hated his alarm clock. It was a simple, yet brilliantly obnoxious device—four rapid beeps, followed by a pause, then another four beeps, and another pause….

That damn beeping would follow him into hell, he just knew it.

He'd hated it ever since he had purchased it in that small airport in Germany fifteen years ago, needing an alarm clock when he was on leave from his first assignment. For some reason, he'd been deathly afraid of sleeping in on the last day of his leave, being declared AWOL and having MPs crash into his room in Munich to find him sprawled on his bed fast asleep and naked. It ranked up there with the traditional underwear-to-school nightmare, and the "oh-shit-I-have-a-test-and-I-didn't-study!" nightmare. So he bought the cheap, little, plastic alarm clock…and regretted it every day since.

Problem was, it was also the only thing that could wake him up. He'd actually tried music, bells, wake-up-calls, but nothing was as effective as the incredibly irritating "beep-beep-beep-beep." It woke him up in a bad mood, but at least he was _awake_.

He rolled over with a groan, grabbed the offending instrument, and promptly threw it across the room.

It just continued to "beep-beep-beep-beep" from over there. The damn thing was also virtually indestructible. It was really quite fascinating. He'd thrown it Lord knows how many times, and yet it never broke. And, seriously, he had tried to break it. Had really, really tried.

His eyes opened up fully and he looked up at the strange ceiling. For a brief second, he was stock-still, staring up with utter confusion at the blue gray metal overhead, the strange Frank Lloyd Wright meets Mondrian fixtures causing him to blink rapidly.

Where the hell was he?

Oh right.

Atlantis. _The_ Atlantis. Aquaman's Atlantis. Without Aquaman. At least…so far. After all, they'd already met life-sucking vampires, who knew what else was out here?

His body shuddered once, getting over the realization that he was, in fact, somewhere really, really impossible.

Then, slowly, he smiled.

Impossible, but admittedly _damn_ _cool_.

He remembered the party from the night before, the impromptu welcome party for the Athosians. He remembered Teyla's smile, Weir's look of trust and pride, Ford's laughter, McKay yelling something about lemons….and the champagne. Very good champagne. They'd all needed it.

And then he remembered Weir asking him that question...

_"Who the members of your team might be...?"_

_That_, he hadn't needed.

Why? Because he didn't know. It wasn't meant to have been his decision and yet...now it was.

Obviously, he needed someone military, who could watch his back and take charge if necessary. He needed a scientist, because this was a scientific expedition still. He needed a diplomat, because he sure as hell wasn't one. And...?

He shook his head. He just didn't know anyone here well enough to know who fit those parameters, which was a problem.

But whoever he did choose needed to be someone he trusted, someone he believed in, someone who would come through when needed...and, most importantly, someone who could take a joke.

He smiled. Okay, maybe the last shouldn't be a pre-requisite, but it'd be nice.

There were thirty military and about seventy scientists to choose from...

Aw hell, it was too early for this.

He sighed, pushed himself up off the bed and looked around at his new "quarters." They had found this set of living quarters close to the Gate Room, and he'd quickly commandeered the first set of rooms for himself, Dr. Weir and Dr. McKay, as the…now…expedition leaders. He'd then doubled the scientists up in the rest of the quarters and put the marines in the halls on bedrolls.

He felt a little guilty because the Athosians had been forced to cram together and sleep in the few remaining rooms in the sector as well as the halls with the marines. Problem was, they hadn't explored any of the city yet, and who knew what might be out there. Sumner hadn't wanted any of them moving beyond what they had scoped out so far until the colonel had personally okayed the rooms. Sheppard was the one doing that now, and it still made sense to him. He assumed they would all move around at some point, but, for now, he had put them in these rooms and that's where they would stay for a few days at least.

With that thought, the mantle of responsibility pressed down on his shoulders again. He really didn't want to think about Sumner right now.

Not that he would ever forget him...

With a sigh, he got up and stumbled across to his duffel bag. He had been so tired, he'd just thrown it carelessly against the wall last night, and he frowned a little as he remembered the Johnny Cash poster he'd so carefully rolled up inside it. He hoped it wasn't damaged. Unzipping the duffel, he rooted around inside until he found the poster and carefully extracted it.

Intact. A little wrinkled, but otherwise okay.

He sighed in relief. Placing it reverently to one side, he rooted around some more until he found a clean shirt and boxers. Pulling both on, he then located his pants where he'd dropped them on the floor, and his jacket (hanging off a chair next to a Spartan looking desk) and threw them on.

Licking his mossy teeth, he grabbed a toothbrush from his duffel and then stood before the door to the hall. He stared at it a moment, gripping the toothbrush in his hand tightly, fingers tightening around the cool plastic handle. Finally, after taking one last deep breath, he tapped his hand to the panel and walked out into the halls of Atlantis.

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Teyla woke with a start, her head buzzing, her eyes popping wide open. She sat straight up on the bedroll, callused fingers gripping the coarse blanket to her chest, blinking furiously at the strange world surrounding her. Her breaths came in short gasps as the threads of the nightmare she had been reliving—being trapped aboard the Wraith ship—faded away.

This wasn't a Wraith ship. It was too bright, too...pretty...

In flashes, memories flooded back, and she found her eyes falling from the elegantly designed walls to the other blanket wrapped lumps around her. Slowly, her breathing calmed and she recalled that she and her people were now guests of the...where did they say they were from? Orth? Erth? She shook her head. Whoever they were, they were the people who now lived in Atlantis.

_Atlantis_.

Yes...she remembered well now. Atlantis. The sacred home of the Ancestors. Lost for centuries, its gate sealed and hidden inside the annals of legend. No one had ever managed to break that seal before.

But these strangers had. Strangers from a strange place she had never heard of.

Her open mouth snapped shut with a click, and she took more careful stock of her surroundings, a hunter's eyes inspecting a new environment.

Regardless, this was her and her people's home now. Athos was no more. They would have to accept it. This new world. These new...friends...

The muscles along her jaw flexed and her eyebrows narrowed as she resolved not to take the gift they had been given by these strangers for granted. She would live up to the promise she made to Doctor Weir and Major Sheppard last night.

"Teyla," a voice called softly.

Teyla turned her eyes to the left, to see Halling sitting on the edge of one of the beds. He was resting a hand on his sleeping son's leg.

"Halling," she greeted softly.

He tilted his head in return, then grimaced, looking up at the high arched ceiling and the sweeping metal buttresses. "This is a wondrous place."

She took another look around the room, then shucked the blanket, intending to stand up. "Yes," she replied, "It is." She pulled her legs beneath her and pushed herself up. It was a surprisingly smooth move for someone who had just spent the night on a marble floor.

Halling's eyes followed her as she rose. "I have been thinking," he said quietly as she stretched the muscles in her arms.

"Oh?" Teyla arched an eyebrow as she then turned to brush down her wrinkled clothes, the same ones she had been wearing the night before at the party. "About what?"

"Do you not wonder, Teyla," he frowned, "if we are, perhaps, trespassing?"

Teyla stopped brushing, looking over at him curiously. "Trespassing?"

He held her gaze as he explained, his voice reverberating with reverence, "This is a holy place, Teyla." He looked up at the ceiling again, "Can we really think to live here, in the City of the Ancestors, and not be thought of as defiling it?"

Teyla straightened to full height, so that she could look down at the man sitting on the edge of the bed. He was so tall, it was rare that she ever had the opportunity to look "down" on him. She used it to full effect here, even if it wasn't her intent.

"What are you saying?" she queried him calmly. "That we should leave?"

Halling's eyes dropped, appearing oddly nervous, then they lifted again. He licked his lips, "Some of us are," his brow furrowed, "concerned." He shrugged, explaining, "We feel as if we should be paying homage, honoring our ancestors, accepting our blessing that we are the first to see the Great City again after all these years." He shook his head, "But instead, we are camping here, eating and drinking as if this were just another world." He grimaced again, "But it is not. This is _Atlantis_, Teyla. Atlantis! And," he swallowed, glancing down at Jinto before looking up at her again, "I am not sure we should stay. Any of us...us," he glanced towards the closed doorway to the hall, "or them."

"Them?" Teyla's eyebrows rose, following his gaze to the door unconsciously. "You mean the people who saved our people yesterday? Saved your life, Halling, and mine, and returned you to your son?"

Halling looked slightly bewildered and a little ashamed, "I do know this, Teyla, and of course I am grateful. Very grateful. But," he looked around at the still sleeping Athosians, "I...and some of the others...are…we…." His tongue stumbled, and he looked up again at the vaulted ceiling. "What if we anger the Ancestors by being here, Teyla? What if they take offense? This is not a place to treat lightly, no matter what the circumstances that brought us here. Perhaps," he licked his lips and looked at her again, "we should leave. Find another world that will take us in?"

Teyla stared at him a moment, then, slowly shook her head, "No, Halling. We made a promise to these people, to help them learn about our galaxy."

"Yes, I know. I listened a little when you were discussing that with their leader, Doctor Weir." Halling straightened up from his slight slouch, "And we can still do that. We can take them with us. I am sure that if we explain to them what this City means to us—what it means to many in this galaxy—that we can convince them to move on with us."

Teyla stared at him, then grimaced. "Halling, you do not understand. Atlantis _is_ why they are here—the came from another galaxy to find this place. They will not just leave. And if we are to help them, then we must stay as well. That is the promise we made, and I will not break it."

Halling's eyes darkened slightly, "You made that promise, Teyla Emmagen, not us."

Teyla's brow furrowed at the challenging tone, but refused to acknowledge it, drawing herself up as she looked down her nose at her friend. "I see. And I do not speak for the Athosians anymore?"

Halling flinched, and shook his head. Quickly, he lowered his head and averted his eyes as a flush lit his cheeks, "Teyla...I am so sorry. I spoke before I thought. Of course you speak for us. I never meant to suggest..." He trailed off, glancing up at her again. "I am sorry. I am merely expressing our concerns. If you think we should stay, we will. We trust your judgment."

Teyla grimaced—that was not what she meant—and she found a flush of embarrassment heating her own cheeks. She did not mean to use her people's trust to get her way. Sighing, she stepped over a couple of sleeping bodies until she stood directly in front of Halling. A quick decision, and she was kneeling, allowing him look down on her now.

"Halling," Teyla reached for his hand where it rested on his knee, covering it with her own, "I understand your fear, I do. I was brought up as you, believing that the Ancestors would return to protect us, save us from the Wraith, and that Atlantis would return to its full glory in order to welcome them—a shining jewel on the landscape of the galaxy. And I am aware, more than aware, that these strangers are not the Ancestors. However," and here, she smiled, "I also believe there is more to these people that meets the eye. Atlantis opened its doors and rose for them, Halling. It came to life with their appearance here, responds to their presence, almost seemingly to their very thoughts." Her eyes brightened as she spoke, and her hand gripped his. "That has to mean something."

Halling pursed his lips, remembering the stories their people had told them about the great shaking when they arrived, then...the City lifting from the sea bottom into the light...

Finally, he smiled, "All right, Teyla." His smile became more genuine, "We will help them. But," the smile fell, replaced by his usual earnestness, "we must also see that Atlantis gets the respect it deserves as well."

Teyla resisted the urge to sigh in relief, knowing the powerful sway the quiet Halling had over her people—he was, for lack of a better term, their spiritual leader. If he accepted her decision, then they all would. She pressed a hand to his cheek, and smiled gently.

"I would expect nothing less from you, Halling."

He smiled back at her, then shrugged. "Plus, how often does one get the opportunity to walk in the footsteps of the Ancestors?" He looked speculatively at the door, "Who knows what further wonders wait for us out there?"

"I am sure you will find out," she laughed, patting his leg and standing up. She knew he meant he planned to do some exploring this morning, and she saw no harm in that. Turning, she looked around again at her people, who were beginning to stir, then towards the closed doorway.

Where she smelled food cooking...

And a new thought, one much more pressing than their spiritual concerns, came to her. Food.

Were they to eat what was made, or were they expected to make their own? And...with what?

As if on cue, her stomach grumbled.

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

CHAPTER TWO: FEELING THEIR WAY

Rodney rubbed the sleep from his eyes—what little of it he'd had—and grimaced as the laptop he was working on froze for the third time in fifteen minutes. Frikkin'...

They knew integration would be difficult, but he hadn't expected it to be this bad. So much for trying to be prepared for every contingency...God, they were in so far over their heads...

Taking what he pretended was a deep, calming breath, he forced the computer to shut down, just so he could power it back up. His fingers rapidly drummed the tabletop as he waited for the laptop to beep angrily at him, eyeing the small portable generator attached to the laptop as it blinked at him.

He was sitting at the conference table in a room just off the Gate Room with a cup of coffee and a half finished MRE. He'd been unable to sleep the night before—his mind just moving too quickly to allow him to actually rest. Finally, at about 4:00 a.m. (for the time being, they were still using Earth time, despite the fact that it did not match the sun rotations here), he'd gotten up and gone in search of food.

The marines who were awake, about ten of them, one of whom he thought was named Bates and another named Ford, had quietly put together some food on a hot plate and handed it to him. They were using this conference room and the one next door as the mess halls for now, so Rodney had walked into the empty one.

It's not that he didn't want to sit with other people, just….

Oh, who was he kidding. He never sat with anyone in cafeterias. Or rather, no one ever sat with him. He'd just gotten used to it. He didn't need the company anyway. People were too distracting, and there was so much to do.

He'd brought the laptop in here with him, and was trying to skim through the tiny portion of the database they'd managed to download onto it. The sheer size of the actual database had blown him away. Even if they wanted to, on the equipment they brought with them, they'd never be able to preserve more than 3-4 percent of the database on their computers, should they ever need to evacuate.

The thought had him quickly typing a note to himself—come up with a way to condense more information. He'd worked on the compression code for the Air Force, and he was fairly sure he could….

"Hey," Major Sheppard's voice called softly into the room.

McKay jumped a little, looking over in surprise at the tall man standing in the doorway. Frowning a little at the interruption, he gave the major a curt nod in return then turned back to his laptop, fingers once more lightly brushing over the touchpad. He assumed the major was just saying hello to be polite, and McKay had no time for polite.

Undeterred, or, more likely, too tired to notice the rudeness, Sheppard walked right up next to the scientist, set down the breakfast he had found for himself and sat down. He yawned widely and his shoulders slumped, hazel eyes staring down at the nutritious but flavorless food without interest.

McKay had jumped again when the major's tray hit the table next to him, and he now looked at the major with obvious confusion, blinking away rapidly as he tried to make sense of the other man's choice of seat. Why was Sheppard sitting next to him? Did he need something? Sheppard pushed his dry eggs around for a moment then shoveled a forkful into his mouth, not even looking at the scientist as he did so. Not surprisingly, Rodney found this irritating, and decided he could not wait to find out what this was about. Sheppard must need him for something, because there was no other reason for him to be there, so...he decided to ask.

"Something you need, Major?"

"Hm?" Sheppard looked at him blearily, then gave a small smile. "No, no, just food. Coffee." He looked at the mug he had with him, then at Rodney's. "Hey, how much of this stuff did we bring with us, anyway?"

Rodney's eyebrows lifted—was that what Sheppard wanted to know? What did he look like, the quartermaster? "How much coffee? Um..." Rodney snorted as he picked up his own mug and looked at the cold dregs, shrugging. "Not nearly enough, I'm wagering." He put the mug down, and tilted his head. "Is that what you wanted to know?"

Sheppard sniffed and shrugged, "Yeah." He smiled blearily again, peering at his coffee for a few seconds before taking a sip, grimacing a little at the bitterness. His fork pierced the hash browns next, his eyes once more seemingly intent on the breakfast. McKay watched him for a moment longer, still not quite sure why Sheppard was sitting with him, then decided to ignore the question and return to his laptop.

"Man, I'm tired," the major muttered, moving his mouth around the lukewarm potatoes. "Yesterday was one hell of a day."

McKay stopped his scrolling of the database, looking at the man next to him again. Was he supposed to respond? When Sheppard didn't speak again, Rodney cleared his throat.

"Um, yes…yes it was. We got lucky."

"Damn lucky. Still, something good came of it."

"What," McKay gave a small smile, "That we didn't all drown at the bottom of the sea?"

Sheppard gave a short laugh, then shook his head, "Yes, well, that, but I was more talking about the Athosians. Teyla and her people."

"Ah, yes," Rodney nodded, then tilted his head. "Teyla is…the woman with the long, reddish hair, yes?"

"Yeah."

"She's very pretty."

Sheppard grinned, "Yeah. I noticed." He eyed Rodney, "I'm surprised you did."

"Are you kidding?" Rodney smiled broadly, "I may have been a little distracted with the whole, uh, Atlantis rising thing, Major, but I'm not blind. Believe me, the men of Atlantis all thank you."

That earned him a laugh, and Rodney felt oddly pleased at the reaction. He watched as Sheppard attacked his eggs again, and found his mind wandering to other things concerning the man. Namely…the major's ability to use the gene. The jealousy he'd first felt had faded, replaced by a sudden insatiable curiosity. He just had to know….

Sheppard caught the stare out of the corner of his eye, and furrowed his brow. "What?" he asked, swallowing the eggs.

"What it's like?" McKay asked, his eyes bright. He looked like a child sitting before his father, asking why the sky was blue. The eggs felt like a lump of coal in Sheppard's throat. This was part of the reason he hadn't wanted to sit with the other marines—to avoid questions like this…about what had happened...about Sumner…about his responsibilities...Since McKay was not military, he hoped the scientist would leave those things alone. But maybe he was wrong.

Crap, he should have taken the food to an empty room.

"What's what like?" he asked softly, trying to keep the dread out of his voice.

"Flying the puddle jumper? Like driving a corvette? Flying a 747 jet? What?"

Sheppard's relief was palpable, and he grinned like a Cheshire cat in response. Now that was a question he could answer!

"It's amazing," he admitted freely, his eyes brightening. "She handles like a Rolls or a Caddy—smooth as silk—but with the power of the old muscle cars. She's got inertial dampeners that react automatically to every shift in the atmosphere, plus she responds in an instant to whatever command I give it. I haven't yet seen how fast she can move, at least, not when I could measure it, but, she's really amazing in the air."

"Damn," McKay shook his head, "Even after 10,000 years, still runs that well. Can you imagine any earth vehicle running that long?"

Sheppard laughed, "Someone should get GM the patent."

"I can't wait to see what it's like," McKay sighed wistfully.

"You have to see the equipment inside, the stuff that's hidden," Sheppard nodded. "For one thing…." He continued to describe everything he'd discovered about the jumper's machinery thus far, and McKay lapped up every word, while Sheppard grew increasingly animated as they talked. Soon they were laughing like old friends, discussing what cars had the best handling, about old junkers they had fixed up when kids (turned out they both loved the old muscle cars), about planes and why Sheppard had become a pilot, about a whole lot of things that were fascinating…and really had nothing to do with Atlantis.

A sharp knock on the door had startled them, and Peter Grodin stuck his head in. His eyes locked on McKay's.

"Sorry, Doctor McKay, but I need you to look at something. Could you come with me?"

Rodney stared at him, and, for a brief instant, almost said no. He was loath to leave. He blinked, glancing down at his now cold, unfinished MRE, then at the laptop screen, where the screensaver had blanked out the screen. That's when he remembered himself—where he was and why. He nodded, looking back at Grodin and standing up.

"Yes, yes, of course." He reached over and closed the laptop, unhooked the generator, and lifting both up to tuck under his arm, he reached down to grab the MRE. That's when he stopped moving, holding the half-eaten package. He really wasn't quite sure what to do with it—he'd never not finished his food before. "I'll, uh…," he looked up at Grodin.

"I'll take that," Sheppard said, reaching to pull the MRE from McKay's hand. "I'll see you later, Doctor McKay." He smiled up at the man, "Probably sooner than later."

"Yes," Rodney nodded, "Thank you." He gestured to the MRE, then slid out from the table and walked over to Grodin. Peter nodded at him and turned, letting McKay follow him out, already explaining the problem. The Englishman's voice was oddly soft.

"We're hooking up the generators—oh, by the way, you were right, five of them should suffice for our current needs—but there are a few systems that are not powering up as we expected. Oh, and before I forget, Doctor Beckett let me know you could head down there as soon as you were ready..."

Sheppard stopped listening as Grodin's voice faded away, figuring, anything important would be told to him later.

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Lieutenant Aiden Ford stopped and closed his mouth, snapping his teeth together in annoyance. That was the third time he'd realized he was gaping at the funky architecture. Thankfully, none of the other marines were around to see him making a fool of himself. He had enough to deal with, proving to them he wasn't just a punk-ass kid, without looking like a punk-ass kid at the same time...

Gritting his teeth, he pursed his lips, straightened his posture, and strode more purposefully down the corridor he was supposed to be patrolling.

As he turned the corner, he saw Stackhouse and Markham peering at something in the wall, Markham snaking a hand out to touch it.

"Hey!" he called, picking up his pace, "Sergeant, stop!"

Markham responded immediately, drawing the hand back. Next to him, Stackhouse frowned slightly, then quickly adopted an expressionless face. Stackhouse was older than Ford by a few years, and had been in the service longer, but Ford still outranked him. In fact, Ford outranked all of the marines except, of course, the Major, and he was also younger than all except a few. It was not an unusual situation in the forces, but Ford had yet to prove his mettle with these men, and the young lieutenant knew it. Until he did, they would tolerate him but not necessarily like him.

He bit back a sigh and tried to look older than his 25 years as he reached the two men and focused on the wall.

There was a diamond shaped pattern, a panel of some kind, in the center of something that appeared to be a tall, narrow door. The door was flush with the wall, almost invisible, as if deliberately intended to be unobtrusive or invisible unless you were looking for it. He frowned.

"What is it?" he asked, looking to Stackhouse.

"I don't know, sir," the sergeant replied. "We were considering finding out when you arrived."

"You were just going to touch it?" Ford arched an eyebrow in what he hoped was a wise looking manner.

"Yes, sir, that was the plan," Markham replied. "I...the gene, you know? I was going to activate it and—"

"Sergeant," Ford shook his head at them, "We have orders not to attempt to activate anything unless and until Doctor McKay or one of his team leaders has approved the activation."

"But I think this is just a door, sir," Markham said, looking again at the panel. Yes, it was clearly a door, but it looked more like the entrance to a linen cupboard or a water closet than a door leading somewhere—it was just too narrow. "I thought...well, I thought it might be a bathroom. Kinda looks like one."

"A bathroom? Are you kidding? Markham...," Ford shook his head and sighed. "For God's sake, we have no idea what's on the other side of this door," he jerked his thumb at it. "It could be anything, from a bathroom, to a fancy robot of some kind, to an elevator shaft, to a...a dimensional portal." He winced a little, realizing he was beginning to sound like a 12 year old babysitter, pretending to know more than he did. "Look, you have your orders. For now, we patrol these corridors until the Major sends us out to learn more. Is that clear?"

Markham grimaced, but nodded. Stackhouse, still expressionless, snapped a quick salute—there was a surprisingly large amount of disdain in the simple motion. Ford pursed his lips, but did not say anything more. Instead, he just nodded at them both and headed off, back towards the current living quarters. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw Stackhouse and Markham walking in the opposite direction away from him. He heard them muttering, and Markham snorted a soft laugh.

Damn.

So focused on each other, none of the three men had noticed that the panel had begun to blink. Markham hadn't needed to touch it for it to sense his desire to open the door, and, inside the wall, long disused gears started to turn.

Ford was still lost in thought as he reached the T junction at the corridor's end, trying to pretend he didn't care that these men didn't trust him yet. "Damn," he muttered out loud this time, standing in place and rubbing at the back of his neck. Well, he'd proved himself before. He could do it again. At least the Major seemed to like him.

He turned left and started walking again, passing a side corridor at a crisp pace, glancing only fleetingly down it before moving on.

What the...?

Something had been there...or rather, someone. Blinking a few times, he stopped and turned around, just in time to see Halling walk out of that side corridor and head away from him...towards the other corridor Ford had just left—the one with the panel. If the tall Athosian saw him, he gave no sign, looking lost in thought himself. Halling's head was down, eyes on the ground, and his hands were tucked behind his back.

The lieutenant opened his mouth to call out, but wasn't quick enough as Halling disappeared down the other corridor. Sighing, Ford turned and jogged after him, turning the corner just in time to see that Halling had stopped at exactly the same place where he had just dismissed Stackhouse and Markham.

This time, though, Ford could see that the panel was fully activated now. For a second, he was struck dumb by the light show from the panel.

And, well, so was Halling.

Before the lieutenant had time to react, the Athosian leant over and gingerly touched the panel, looking lost in its beauty, a blissful smile on his face.

"Hey!" he called, prompting Halling to turn and look at him. The big man offered a friendly grin at his appearance and started to stand up straighter, hand still on the panel, when the wall suddenly disappeared. With a yelp of surprise, Halling fell sideways into the now open door.

"Halling!" Ford shouted, running over to where the man had disappeared into a narrow, pitch-black room, and, without a second thought, went in after him turning on the light on his P90 at the same time...

And found himself falling, his scream merging with the Halling's echoing down below...

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TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

CHAPTER THREE: CONFUSE-A-CAT

Stepping out of the conference rooms, handing the last of his food to whomever was in charge of it that morning (looked like Sumner's right-hand man, Staff Sergeant Bates, who still looked at him with a wary expression), Sheppard turned and walked through the doors into the Gate Room.

It was awash in sunlight, and he had to stop. He'd never really looked at it before, not without there being something else more pressing to control his attention. He paused in the center, turning a slow circle, taking in the cavernous room. Above him, on one of the balconies, he could see Grodin talking to another scientist, this one smaller with Einstein-like hair and a Czech flag on his arm. What was his name again? Zaphod? Other scientists also buzzed about, but not McKay, who was strangely absent.

For some reason, this disappointed Sheppard. Sighing a little, he continued his visual tour.

His breath caught when he looked in the direction of the Stargate, or rather, at the massive windows behind the Stargate. They were breathtakingly beautiful. Not that he normally noticed stuff like that, but some things even he could appreciate. He soaked in the sun streaming through them for a couple of minutes, before looking away.

It had suddenly occurred to him that it wasn't "the" sun. It was a different sun. An alien sun. Overlooking an alien planet. In an alien galaxy. Far, far, far away from his sun. And no way home.

The warm air felt suddenly chillier at the realization, and his smile disappeared.

Forcing the depressing thought aside, he decided it was time to get down to business and start assessing the room strategically. He would need to establish a standard response to threats that might come through the gate, for the Wraith were probably only the tip of the iceberg in terms of what might be out there. He needed to set up positions that would garner the greatest cover and most effective defensive _and_ offensive possibilities. They'd need to train, have drills, know every niche, every hole, make this place their own. For when all else failed, Sheppard planned to make this their Fort McHenry, because he'd be damned if he would let it become their Alamo.

Of course, they'd have to clear all these boxes away first.

He sent a wry look down at a box he nearly tripped over, pushing it to one side with one foot. It had "Dangerous and Really Fragile, So Don't Touch! I Mean It! Doctor McKay" on it. Almost against his will, he found himself smiling again. Looking around, he saw there were still a large number of boxes littering the floor in here, a number of them with McKay's scrawl on them. They'd need to go somewhere. Surely the Ancients had closets….

"Major Sheppard?"

He turned, his half smile blooming into a full grin as Teyla walked into the room, striding purposefully towards him from one of the doorways. As she reached him, she stood attention, clasping her hands behind her back and lifting her chin proudly. Gone was the grateful woman from last night. Before him stood a beleaguered leader who had suddenly found herself in charge of a displaced and completely unprepared people.

"Major, I have been looking for you."

"Hey Teyla," he grinned, finding he was actually happy to see her. "You're looking awake. How's things?"

Her eyebrows lifted a little, confused by the greeting, then shook her head. "I...things? Our, uh, our things are fine, Major and...I am...indeed awake. However, I would like to discuss a few matters with you. I spoke with Doctor Weir last evening for several hours about Atlantis and its future, and, although there are those among us who," she grimaced, "feel that we are," she pursed her lips, looking vaguely embarrassed as she continued, "'trespassing' on sacred ground," she lifted her chin again, "we are nonetheless agreed to help you in your endeavor."

"Really?" Sheppard pursed his lips in mock seriousness and nodded, "How very nice of you."

She grimaced a little at his seemingly dismissive tone, "That is, if you feel you could use our help."

"Tour guides would be very useful, yes," he shrugged, "especially as I don't think any of us remembered to pack our Lonely Planet Guide to the Pegasus Galaxy." He smiled at her obvious bewilderment, "So, yes, we would be grateful for your help."

After a moment, she nodded. "I…yes, well, good. Then we understand each other."

"Apparently. Thank you, Teyla." And he turned away, looking again around at the room. She did not move, clearing her throat a little to get his attention again. He glanced back at her, arching an eyebrow. "Yes?"

"I apologize, Major, but," she frowned a little, before plunging on, "I do not think you fully understand the import of my message. This place, Atlantis, is sacred to my people, Major. For us to accept the idea of living here, of helping you…that is a daunting concept for many of my people. And yet we…."

"…Are agreed to help us," he finished, sounding almost impatient. "I am not deaf, Teyla. And I said we were grateful."

She was annoyed now, her forehead pinching, "This is not easy for us, Major."

He turned to face her again, and, suddenly, he looked very tired. "Yes, I know," he admitted. "Look, Teyla, I know you and you people think this City is holy. We may not see it in the same light, but, in a different way, it is sacred to us as well. We risked everything to come here, and, for good or ill, it is our home now. But," he met her eyes squarely, "that does not mean it has to be yours. You and your people are free to leave any time you want—you know that right? In fact, maybe you should; it would probably be safer for you, now that we've woken your Wraith. So, please, do not stay just because you feel somehow," he shrugged, "obliged to us."

She frowned, clearly confused, "Obliged?"

He nodded, "I know you feel grateful to us for rescuing you, but, trust me, it's misplaced. Fact is," he turned his eyes away, "you would not have had to be rescued if it hadn't been for us. We only brought you here because, after what we did, I do not think you could return to Athos. And I...we...can never make up for that. We—"

"Wait," she held up a hand, "You think you are the reason we were forced from Athos?"

He grimaced, looking at her again, "Who else? If we hadn't—"

"No, Major, you do not understand." She sighed, the hand she'd raised falling to her neck, to finger the pendant there, lowering her eyes. "The Wraith coming to Athos when you were there was just a bad coincidence, Major, nothing more. My people are superstitious, thinking that, perhaps, it was your trespassing on the old city that did it, but the Wraith were never predictable. They come and go, without warning, without reason. And it would not be the first time a people has been forced from their home—it happens more often than not. To be honest, a goodly number of my people were not born on Athos." She shook her head, then lifted her eyes to meet his. "So if you now are going to say that rescuing me, Halling and my other people from the Hive ship was a mistake…." She dropped her hand. "Major, you take too much upon yourself. The only evil here is the Wraith." She practically spat the name, her eyes flashing with conviction.

He just stared at her, his eyes dark with his anxiety, and she suddenly realized that she had taken the wrong tack with him.

"Major, listen to me," she said, softening her voice and stepping closer to him. "My people wish to help you, not because they feel obliged, or because they feel they have nowhere else to go, but because they...we..._want_ to help you. In fact, we would be honored to do so."

He frowned, "Honored?" He shook his head, "You're right, Teyla, I don't understand. How can you say that? You just said we were trespassing on a holy place, I would have thought you—"

"Major," she smiled at him entreatingly, "you rescued me and my people from the Wraith, from within a Wraith stronghold. Such a thing is unheard of." She shook her head, as if still trying to wrap her head around that fact, and then she looked around her at the massive, sunlit room, "And you have brought Atlantis back to life, the home of the Ancestors, made its promise real again." She smiled, focusing on him with clear eyes, "You bring new hope to the galaxy, hope that has long been missing, hope that I had never thought to know in my lifetime. Do you understand how amazing that is? Major, the loss of our home was worth it, to feel that again." Her eyes sparkled, "Does that answer your question?"

He stared at her for a moment, seeing the absolute faith in her eyes as she met his gaze, and part of him wanted to run away screaming. Hope? Life? They had barely escaped, and had, at the same time, awoken creatures that made Dracula look like that damned Count from Sesame Street. How could she praise him for the complete botch that was yesterday? For being the reason the Athosians could not return to their homes, for nearly getting all of her people killed, for nearly killing his own people. For...Sumner. He swallowed, and his lack of confidence must have been clear on his face, because her smile faded and some of the seriousness of earlier returned.

"Major Sheppard," her voice was impossibly soft now, "I know this is not what you and your people expected to find when you came here. I know that we," she smiled self-mockingly, "are not what you expected to find when you came here. But this is your life now. And we will help you make it right, and make this your home, as well as ours. And together, I believe we will bring Atlantis to full glory once more, for all the galaxy to see."

Her words had a powerful effect on him, soothing his nerves and refueling his confidence. After a moment, he found his lips perking up again in the face of her conviction.

"You're good at that, aren't you?"

She frowned, her confusion returning, "Good at what?"

"Talking to people."

Her bewilderment grew, "I...have been a skillful trader for many years, Major. And a leader of my people for some time as well."

"No," Sheppard shook his head, his smile growing, "that's not what I meant." He held out a hand to her, "Thank you, Teyla."

She arched an eyebrow at him for a moment, then, tentatively, took his hand, watching as he shook it. The night before had taught her that this was his people's way of greeting each other, but it seemed to have additional significance in this moment.

"You're welcome," she replied with the tone of a person who was not entirely sure why she was being thanked. Her eyes lifted to his, and she felt his grip tighten on her hand, just holding it, and that's when she felt it.

They had made a connection.

She smiled then, and he let go her hand. Clearing her throat, she backed away, trying to hide the fact the she was pleased. Steeling her jaw, she decided it was time to get back to more pressing subjects.

"Now, Major, as I said, there are a number of items I need to discuss with you. First, of course, we need to discuss living arrangements. Second, we will need access to the Stargate. Third, we would like to know your expectations concerning—"

"Ho, wait, hang on," Sheppard held up a hand, smiling still, "have you eaten?"

She blinked, "What? Uh, no. We were not sure if we were welcome to eat your food. Actually, that is one of the matters I—"

Sheppard shook his head, "Of course you are welcome. We brought you here; you're part of us now. As you said, Mi casa es su casa, Teyla." He grinned as she blinked in confusion at the strange language, and cut her off when she opened her mouth to ask the meaning. "Look, tell your people to see the marines in that hall over there," he pointed off to his left, "and to get their breakfast. Then, after you've eaten, we can talk business."

She stared at him for a moment, then, finally, gave him a nod.

"All right. Thank you, Major."

"De nada, Teyla." And he smiled more brightly, almost mischievously, "Just remember to tip the waiters generously. For some of them, that's their main source of income, you know."

She blinked in bewilderment again at the off the wall statement and watched him for a second longer, as if gauging his sanity. Finally, with a curt nod, she turned and headed back to the doorway through which she entered, obviously deciding not to bother figuring it out right now. A couple of times, she looked over her shoulder at him. The first time he waved his fingers, the second time he blew her an impromptu kiss. This only served to confuse her more, such that when she left, she had a truly baffled expression on her face, eyes widened a little in concern.

"You know," McKay's voice called down from above as the door slid shut behind Teyla, "I'll have to remember that technique, Major."

Sheppard looked up, surprised to see the scientist leaning over the railing of one of the balconies. Where had he come from? McKay had his foot propped up on the bottom rung, and was resting his arms on the top, where he had obviously been shamelessly eavesdropping. He looked like he was rubbing his right arm a little.

"What technique?" Sheppard replied, arching an eyebrow up at him.

"The seduce them by confusing them technique. I particularly liked the Spanish. That was a stroke of genius."

Sheppard immediately grinned in response, "Well muchas gracias, Doctor McKay. I thought it worked well myself."

McKay's eyes sparkled as he straightened, clearly pleased with this reply from the other man, "So, what's the next step? Sign Language? Whale music? Silly walks?"

"Actually, I was considering more the confuse-a-cat school of thought. Setting up a tent and putting on a show."

McKay's grin was huge now, "Ah, yes, that's sure to win the heart of any Athosian woman."

"Well I think so. Certainly beats the, uh, trying to get a life by eavesdropping on other people's conversations technique. That's been working well for you, has it?" Both eyebrows were lifted as Sheppard stared guilelessly up at McKay. Rodney snorted, holding back a laugh.

"You know," he leaned back and tapped his finger against his chin, "you were almost funny there, Major."

"Thank you, McKay. And you are almost..." he trailed off. Then he shrugged, "Yeah, you know, I'm not sure yet. I'm reserving judgment on you, McKay. I'll tell you when I figure it out."

Surprisingly, that made the scientist grin even more broadly, and he actually bowed a little, "Well, thank you, Major. I appreciate that. It would make you one of the first." And with a quick eyebrow waggle, McKay pushed away from the railing and disappeared back into the control room, and out of Sheppard's sight. The last thing he heard was McKay saying something to someone about going to check out the lab they'd found nearby again.

McKay's reply had actually surprised the Major, though Sheppard didn't let that show on his face until he knew the scientist was gone. He had meant his statement as a jibe, but McKay seemed to take it as almost a compliment.

Looking down, he tapped the box by his foot, then turned to look towards the doors on this floor.

What had he been doing again?

Oh, right...defenses...

—————————————————————

TBC


	4. Chapter 4

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

CHAPTER FOUR: DOWN THE WATER SPOUT

Head down, McKay headed away from the Control Room, his eyes on the marble flooring, following the pattern with his eyes. It was subtle, but it was there. Most of the floors were plain, but some, like this one—which led to the first laboratory they'd found—was delicately patterned.

His hands fiddled with the ancient device in his pocket. He'd found it in the lab late last night, having quickly grown bored with the "party" and wanting to explore more. The text in the database told him that it generated some sort of "personal shield" (if he'd translated it correctly). His fingers gently rubbed the smooth surface as he tried to ignore the sting in his arm from the injection Beckett had given him about ten minutes ago. That had been one hell of a needle.

His mind wandered, thinking about what Beckett's "gene therapy" might mean if it worked. He might actually be able to work Ancient tech like the Major.

His smile broadened at the thought of Major Sheppard, unable to help himself. He'd only arrived in time to hear the latter half of the man's conversation with Teyla, but he _had_ been in time to see the awkward handshake moment. He just couldn't help ribbing the major...and was oddly pleased at the ribbing he'd received in return.

Reserve judgment, the man had said. That really was a new phenomenon for McKay. People always thought they had him pegged within a few moments: as a jerk.

And they'd be right. He _was_ a jerk.

And he was damn proud of it.

He was rude, arrogant, impatient and, frankly, mean—ergo, "jerk." It was a front that meant people would get right to the point with him, and wouldn't bother feigning politeness or any other PC nicety. It was also, to put it bluntly, a means to get most people to leave him alone. And he liked being alone.

Most of the time.

He stopped at the top of the metal stairs leading to the lower levels, right hand reaching out unconsciously to touch the railing to lean on. He pulled the personal shield out of his pocket, frowning a little as it continued to stay dead as he balanced it on his left palm.

Then occasionally, rarely, he'd meet someone who could return his snide remarks with equally biting ones. The Major was the first person in a long time who responded that way, and without any hint of anger or disdain. Had he made that remark about seduction by confusion to, well, anyone else, they would have either have ignored him, or, thinking themselves insulted, responded defensively, even nastily. Carter, for example, for all her brilliance, usually reacted defensively. The Major, however, had not only bit back—he had been funny. Hell, he had even used a Monty Python reference, perhaps in return for the one McKay had made. That in itself was impressive!

And combined with their conversation earlier this morning…for the first time in a very, very long time…McKay wondered if he had actually found a friend. Sure, Carson was his friend, but that was only because Carson knew him so well. It had taken months for Carson to finally start not taking offense at everything McKay said, to learn that McKay meant very little of what came out of his mouth, and now they had a very comfortable rapport. But this thing with the Major?

Huh.

Well, it was something McKay had to admit…he wasn't used to.

It was, well, neat.

His eyes lifted from the floor, his eyes showing how pleased it made him. Yes indeed, so far today was turning out to be pretty….

"Doctor Weir! Doctor McKay!" someone shouted over the radio on McKay's ear, causing him to grimace and immediately reach for the volume control. "Major Sheppard! Please respond!"

"This is Doctor Weir," Elizabeth chimed in over the radio.

"Sheppard here," the Major's disembodied voice stated.

McKay sighed, putting the personal shield back in his pocket and tapping the earpiece, "McKay here."

"What's the matter?" Elizabeth asked.

"And can you please refrain from shouting your answer?" McKay added.

A deep breath, then, more quietly, but by no means any less stressed. "This is Lieutenant Ford. We have an emergency on level…um…I'm not sure how far down. Gotta be at least three or four levels down though, maybe more. I'm with one of the Athosians, and we fell down some kind of...elevator shaft or something, into a really strange room, and I can't see an exit. Please, Major and Doctor McKay, just get down here as quickly as you can. And tell Doctor Beckett, we need a medical team as well. Halling is hurt. And...oh...this isn't good..."

McKay didn't even wait for him to finish as he immediately started sprinting down the stairs he stood next to, aiming (for now) for three floors down.

"Where exactly are you!" he called to Ford, "Can you describe the room?"

—————————————————————

Shaking off the tremors and pain of the hard fall, Ford tried to stand up on the slippery, slanted metal floor under his feet, without much success. Next to him, lying on the floor, Halling lay groaning, cradling what was clearly a broken leg (the Athosian had fallen badly when they were dumped into this place from above). Ford patted the big man's shoulder in sympathy, then, trying to ignore the bruises covering his body, tried to get his bearings as he looked around at this bizarre, empty room.

It was large and circular—about the size of a good sized conference room, maybe thirty feet in diameter. Above, the ceiling was patterned with crisscrossed metal braces, in between which were about fifteen (now-closed) chute openings much like the one he and Halling had fallen through. In the middle of the ceiling was a large metal ring, the purpose of which was lost on the lieutenant.

Strangest of all, though, was the floor they tried to get their balance on—mainly because it wasn't flat. He was standing in the bottom of a deep, shallow funnel-like bowl, the smooth sides sloping down to a fairly sharp point in the center. At its deepest, it looked to be at least fifteen feet from the ceiling above. He was about to say something about the oddness of it when Halling let out a truly painful yell of pain, and Ford finally reacted by hitting his radio, remembering his duty.

"Doctor Weir," he yelled into the mic, "Doctor McKay! Major Sheppard! Please respond!" One of them would get them out of here, right? He looked up at the ceiling again as each person answered, blushing a little as McKay asked him not to shout. Taking a deep breath, he tried to speak more calmly as he explained what had happened and where they were...

"This is Lieutenant Ford. We have an emergency on level…um…I'm not sure how far down. Gotta be at least three or four levels down though, maybe more. I'm with one of the Athosians, and we fell down some kind of...elevator shaft or something, into a really strange room, and I can't see an exit. Please, Major and Doctor McKay, just get down here as quickly as you can. And tell Doctor Beckett, we need a medical team as well. Halling is hurt. And..."

He paused, finally taking a really good look at the floor. He suddenly realized the pattern reminded him of a basket steamer for vegetables. Wait a moment...

"Oh," he breathed, catching on, "this isn't good..."

It wasn't a pattern. They were slats, interconnected slats. Slats that it didn't take a genius to guess...moved. At some point, the floor must open like a flower, dropping him and Halling into whatever might be below.

Which was probably a hundred foot drop into nothing.

Oh crap.

And, as if on cue, the room started to hum. Double crap!

"Where exactly are you?" McKay called abruptly, "Can you describe the room?"

"Um..." Ford licked his lips and tried to describe the room, even as he started looking for some way to get them out of here, or at least, off this "floor." McKay cut him off mid-sentence after he said it was circular, saying something about recalling seeing three circular rooms on a map up in the control room the day before, about eight levels down, and described the location of them to Grodin up in the control room. Weir chimed in to say that Grodin was looking to pinpoint it now.

Meanwhile, Ford turned around in circles, trying to find...there...was that a door? Yes! That had to be the door! On one side of the room was what looked like the edges of an entrance, though it was currently closed and flush with the wall. Next to it were six black dots in a horizontal line...no, not dots...un-lit lights. He realized that when he noticed the one farthest to the left was flashing red...warming up? Crap, crap, crap...

He tapped the radio again, "Doctor Weir, Major Sheppard, things have just gotten worse—I think this room's going to dump us out soon, and I don't know into what. Please hurry!"

"Dump you?" McKay answered, breathing heavily into the radio probably because he was running.

Ford gave a quick explanation, of his guess at what the floor did, and he heard McKay swear. Meanwhile, the young lieutenant looked down at Halling, to see a nervous look on the Athosian's face that probably mirrored his own.

"Okay, Halling," he said, trying to smile confidently, "first thing we need to do is get off this floor."

Just then, Grodin joyfully exclaimed over the radio that he'd found it—the only circular room on the map that was currently evidencing a surge of power, and started relaying directions over the radio (McKay had been right—they were eight levels down). Meanwhile, Ford looked up again at the ceiling. He focused on the metal ceiling braces, looming about ten feet over their heads. He considered primarily the metal ring...and decided he could probably get his legs through it.

The humming grew louder...and something clicked. He glanced at the lights by the door—the first light was a steady red now. The next in line started to flash. Shit, shit, SHIT!

Ford shook off the adrenalin rush from his fear pulsing through his veins, and ripped the belt from his waist to tie it into a loop. Then he shucked off his vest and pulled off his jacket, to tie to the end of the belt. Still wasn't long enough...

"Got any rope?" he asked, looking down again at Halling.

"He...here." The Athosian quickly undid the rope around his own waist and held it up to Ford. The lieutenant quickly attached it to the jacket sleeve. A moment later, he was throwing the buckle end of his belt towards the ring, grimacing a little at the awkwardness of the impromptu rope he'd created. The first throw missed, the buckle ringing against the metal as it hit. The second time, the buckle end sailed right through the center of the ring and, soon, Ford had the line secured and was attaching the nylon straps on his vest to it to create a harness.

"Ford, any way you can see to get off that floor? Climb up off of it?" Sheppard asked over the radio, finally interrupting the chatter of McKay and Grodin as they discussed the room's purpose and ways to try and shut it down from the control room...and Grodin's swear as the laptop he was working on apparently froze.

"Already on it, sir," Ford replied as he checked the knots he'd created. "I've rigged a sort of harness from my vest, and am hooking us up to a metal ring in the center of the ceiling. Should work to keep us suspended until you can get to us."

There was a momentary silence on the line, then Sheppard answered, "Okay then. Good job, Ford." He sounded impressed. Ford fought the urge to smile as he tested his knots one more time.

"Thank you, sir." Satisfied with his handiwork, Ford looked down at Halling. "Can you stand?" The big man looked at him like he was nuts. Ford nodded leaning over to hand him the vest. "Put it on. Then we'll haul you up."

Halling grimaced, but did as he was told, then he watched as Ford, using the "rope," climbed up to the ring and put a leg through it. As soon as he felt secure enough—braced by both his legs—he let himself fall upside down, grabbed the rope with both hands and started to heave Halling up off the floor. The big man groaned as pain lanced down his leg, but he did his best to help Ford, using his considerable arm strength to climb up to where the lieutenant could get a grip on him. Soon they were both dangling from the ceiling, braced by the metal ring...watching the funnel-like floor with trepidation.

Just in time to see it move. The slats contracted...then loosened a little, creating a pinprick of a hole in the center, just enough to see the sparkling ocean...really far below.

And around them, the humming had gotten louder, as ancient, old machinery really started to kick into motion away behind the walls. Ford looked over at the door. Two lights steady red, the next flashing yellow. Only three more to go after that...

Ford managed to let go of Halling with one arm without losing him, and snaked the free hand up to his radio.

"By the way, if I didn't say it before," he yelled into the microphone, "we need HELP!"

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

CHAPTER FIVE: LEAPING BEFORE LOOKING

McKay jumped down the stairs, huffing and puffing, trying to get down to level eight as soon as possible. Hadn't the ancients heard of elevators, for Christ's sake? He could hear a number of other people's footsteps ringing on the metal steps above him, and at least two other people taking them two at a time like him.

"Lieutenant?" Beckett called over the radio, using a voice McKay found disturbingly calm, "Can you tell me how badly you and the Athosian are hurt?" This was Beckett's quirk, McKay knew, having seen the other man utilize it several times while they were in Antarctica. When it came to medicine, Carson was a virtuoso, far more knowledgeable than a man his age should be in all the fields that he practiced in, and unfailingly competent. The more dire the medical situation, the calmer Beckett became. But when it came to, well, everything else, Beckett became more nervous than a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"It's the Athosian, sir, not me," Ford replied on the open channel, sounding a little breathless and strained all of a sudden. "His leg—he says he thinks it's broken."

McKay frowned, finally hitting the landing on the level 8, and sprinted down the corridor towards the aft section of the floor, mentally following Grodin's directions from earlier. He heard someone hit the metal flooring a second after him. For some reason, even without looking around, he knew it was the major.

"Anything else?" Beckett asked over the radio, still too calmly.

"Not that I can see, sir," Ford replied, his voice still strained. "But you had better hurry. I'm not sure I can hold him up much longer."

_Hold him up?_ McKay's eyes widened.

"Hold him up?" Sheppard's voice echoed behind him. McKay snorted a laugh at the jinx, despite the seriousness of the situation.

Around them, the lights of the corridor burst into life as they ran, until, finally, McKay rounded a corridor to find himself before a fairly large doorway, one much wider and taller than any others he'd seen. Without a thought, he pressed a hand to the panel on the side and stepped inside with Sheppard at his heels...only to immediately slip and fall with a sharp yelp down the smooth, slanted floor.

He would have slipped all the way down to the center had a firm grip not grabbed the back of his collar and thrown him sideways towards the wall. In seconds, McKay found himself standing at the very edge of the funnel-like floor, balanced on his heels on about an inch of flat surface, his back pressed up against the curved wall. He was several feet from the still open doorway, with Sheppard about an arm's length closer to the door than him, the major's front pressed to the wall. McKay stood rigid, momentarily struck dumb by fear, fingers and palms pressed firmly against the metal wall behind him.

"Sirs!" Ford called, clearly happy to see them. McKay looked up, and blinked at the odd sight of Ford hanging almost upside down from a large metal ring in the middle of the room, his arms around an upright Halling trapped in a harness made from Ford's flak vest.

"Woah!" a new voice called from the still open door, and heads turned to see Sergeant Stackhouse backpedaling from the edge, the perching there and staring into the room open-mouthed.

"Stackhouse, get a rope!" Ford yelled at him brusquely, "And hurry! I think this room is gearing up to do something big!"

"Yes sir!" Stackhouse replied without hesitation, turning to run back the way he had come, passing two more marines on the way. Sergeant Bates and Corporal Johnson blinked as they too stopped on the edge. Bates looked at Ford, then leaned in to look at Sheppard.

"Sir?" he called, clearly curious as to how Sheppard and McKay had ended up where they were. Frankly, McKay wasn't sure himself. All he knew was that he wasn't about to move and risk falling.

"McKay didn't look before he leapt, Bates," Sheppard ground out through gritted teeth, "And I stupidly followed him."

McKay's brow furrowed in annoyance, but his voice wasn't working yet, still paralyzed by fear...so the major got away with that one.

"Can you move back here, sir?" Bates called.

"Not sure," Sheppard replied. Swallowing, he steeled himself and took a couple steps down the sloping floor in an attempt to move sideways, not trusting his ability to stay on the sliver of flat surface under his toes. He slid immediately, even despite the thick rubber soles of his boots, and quickly scrambled back up to the flat bit at the top and pressed himself back against the wall.

"Careful sir!" Ford called a little redundantly from where he was dangling.

The room made another heavy clunk, and the floor shifted again. The hole closed up, then got a little bigger—now about a foot in diameter. Halling whimpered from his precarious hanging position, and Ford grunted, gritting his teeth as the muscles in his arms bulged under the strain. Sheppard took a deep breath and tried to slide along the wall towards Bates again, but it was slow going when he could only put his weight on the very tips of his toes. McKay, meanwhile, remained firmly pressed with his back against the wall. He didn't think he could move if he wanted to.

"What the...!" Beckett called skidding to a halt in the corridor behind Bates and Johnson. He shoved past them, putting down a bag of medical supplies just on the edge of the sloping floor. He stared at the opening floor, and then up at the two men dangling precariously in the middle, right above the hole. Brow furrowed, he stared in shock at the strange tableau. "What is this!"

"McKay?" Sheppard asked, turning his head to the side.

Rodney blinked back at him, and, with the mental nudge, finally started thinking again. "Um, uh, well...I don't know what it's for, but...I..." He looked around the room for the first time, noting its cylindrical nature, reminding him a little of the inside of a rotor. It almost looked like an amusement park ride he'd been on once called the Spinner...

His head tilted up, and took in the fact that there were several holes in the ceiling. Frowning, he realized they reminded him of...

"Waste chutes," he finished aloud, nodding to himself. They were waste chutes. Emptying into this room. Looking again at the floor, he noticed the grooved edge between the wall and the floor—the metal was stripped slightly.

It did spin. It spun all the waste to compact it, then, when it was full, the floor opened to dump it...probably onto barges that, clearly, hadn't been reactivated yet. Hence the gaping hole into nothingness.

Oh shit. It was a god damned trash compactor!

"Okay, okay," he said, finally trying to inch along the wall towards the still gamely moving Sheppard. "We need to, uh...we need to get out of here."

Just then the floor shifted again, at least, that's what it seemed like to Sheppard.

McKay, however, realized it had not been the floor. It had been the wall. He froze again, staring at it in horror.

And that's when the door slammed shut, nearly decapitating Beckett.

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TBC (Yeah, sorry, I couldn't resist posting this bit!)


	6. Chapter 6

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

CHAPTER SIX: THE ROTOR

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"No!" Sheppard yelled, "Bates! Get it open!"

"The panel outside here isn't working," the sergeant replied over the radio. "Sir, it's glaring red at me."

"McKay?" Sheppard looked back at the scientist, but McKay was wide-eyed and not moving. "McKay!"

The scientist jumped a little, and looked back at the major. His eyes were completely panic-filled.

"McKay, calm down!" Sheppard snapped, "I need you thinking, not gaping!" Interestingly, the shout seemed to galvanize the scientist. Suddenly McKay was moving, sliding far enough along the wall to reach the major's shoulder and start prodding him towards the closed doorway. "What are you doing?" Sheppard demanded angrily—he hated being prodded.

"Trying to get the hell out of here, Major," McKay replied, his voice shaky despite the snap. "What do you think I'm doing? Now move to the door!"

"But we have to help them!"

"From here? How? We need to get out of here before we get splattered against the walls!"

"What?"

"It's a centrifuge, Major. A giant centrifuge. If it starts spinning while we're in here, it'll crush—"

"We can't leave!"

"Maybe you can't..." McKay said, nudging the Major more forcefully towards the only exit. "Head that way, maybe I can jimmy—"

"We're _all_ getting out of here," Sheppard hissed, glaring at the scientist. "You just have to figure out how."

McKay stared back at him, trading glare for glare, but at least the panic was gone, replaced with, interestingly enough, annoyance. Then, Sheppard saw something almost click within McKay's blue eyes and the scientist looked past him, at the lights near the door that Ford had seen earlier, and Sheppard turned to see what he was looking at. Right now, two were lit up red, one yellow, and the fourth of six was now flashing yellow. It didn't look like anything opened near them but...

"Fine!" McKay snapped, "At least move a foot in that direction, towards those lights in the wall."

"What are they?" Sheppard asked. They reminded Sheppard of lights on a washing machine, each becoming lit as the machine ran through the cycles, and if McKay was right about the room, the last was the "spin cycle." The Major chuckled at the bad joke, vaguely thankful he didn't say it out loud when he saw McKay glaring at him again.

"Power. Now move! Grodin!" McKay looked down, focusing on the floor. Sheppard heard someone reply over the radio, and McKay started talking fast—very fast—demanding Grodin locate the room's control panel—something on the inside—and then the ensuing fight as Grodin insisted there may not be anything inside the room that could help them. McKay's subsequent argument about the Atlantians not being stupid enough to create a room with no exit rang true with Sheppard, but he had to admit, he couldn't see any lines indicating a panel that opened in the wall. The area McKay indicated looked like just part of the wall, with holes in it for the lights to be visible through.

He started shifting slowly towards the lights, McKay following him. It still didn't look like a panel, even when he was right on top of it. He stopped when he was on the far side of the horizontal line of lights, McKay on the other, watching the scientist's eyes as they examined the seemingly seamless patch of wall.

Sheppard looked back at Ford, just in time to see the young man adjusting his hold on Halling. The tall Athosian helped a little, but otherwise didn't do much except stare disconsolately at the water he could see glistening in the distance down below.

"Ford, you okay?" Sheppard called out.

"Yeah," the lieutenant grunted a little, but otherwise actually smiled albeit tiredly. "I'm not doing much except holding myself up. The rope and vest are doing most of the work."

The major nodded, "I can see that; again, nice job. Halling? What about you?"

"My leg is in great pain," the Athosian replied curtly, not looking up, "and I am very tired."

"I can imagine," Sheppard gamely offered his own smile, "Well, hang on just a little longer. I'm sure McKay here will get us—" He was interrupted as the wall shifted again, and the floor made another undulation, opening the hole up further. They didn't have much time. He glanced down at the fourth light.

Steady yellow. The second to last light started flashing blue. Part of him was surprised it wasn't green—what, was he sentimental for traffic lights now? Or maybe a Nascar race...

Sheppard turned his head back towards the closed door, listening to the sounds of someone hammering on the outside. The soldiers were trying to break the door down.

"Bates," he snapped into his radio, "That's not going to help! Get a blowtorch! Operations will have one—check with Sergeant Sanchez. He'll have tools. In fact, tell him what's happened and get him down here!"

"Yes sir," Bates replied over the radio, and, simultaneously, the banging on the door stopped.

"Grodin!" McKay snapped into his own radio, one hand resting on the wall above the lights. "I need you to find the opening to the control panel NOW!" A pause, then McKay actually made a noise like "harrumph" to whatever Grodin replied. Sheppard blinked. People actually "harrumphed?"

"Sir," Bates called over the phone, "Sanchez is on his way down. He'll be here in a few minutes."

"Tell him to hurry, Bates!"

"Yes sir!"

"Damn it, Peter," McKay spat, looking more and more pissed off, "What the hell are you doing? Taking a smoke break? This thing has to open! Now, OPEN IT!"

Sheppard heard Grodin's exclaimed reply "Got something!" over McKay's radio at the same time the room moved again...and the major lost his balance as the wall shifted. The jerk was so sudden, Sheppard didn't even notice that his feet were no longer touching solid ground, only the sudden, bizarre sensation of weightlessness as he fell backwards away from the wall, a shout of fear bursting from his lips. He registered Ford shouting, "Sir!" loudly, but he couldn't seem to do anything to stop the backwards plunge, arms reaching instinctively forward to catch at anything that might stop him...

Then a sudden grip on his wrist, and someone was holding on to him.

He gasped, the world returning to right way up, and he reached out, fingers scrabbling at the arm that held him up. His head lifted, and he found McKay hanging onto him, the scientist's face pinched as he struggled to hold onto Sheppard. McKay was partially crouched, still with his toes on the sliver of flat floor, one hand hanging onto Sheppard, the other up and gripping the edges of an open control panel. The muscles bulged in McKay's neck above the blue collar, straining against the weight.

"Some help here?" the scientist grunted out.

Sheppard nodded, pressing his hands on the flat part of the floor and pushing up...finally getting his feet under him. Pulling himself up, his own hands found the edges of the same open panel McKay was holding onto, thanking whoever designed this place that there _were_ edges to hang onto.

He turned and looked behind him...the hole in the floor was three feet wide now. He would have hit the sloping floor and slid right out that hole...

"Shit," he breathed, unable to take his eyes from the glittering ocean far, far below.

"Yeah, well," McKay breathed next to him, looking a little dazed himself, "You have Peter Grodin to thank for that one, Major. He opened this just in time. I wouldn't have been able to hold on to you otherwise."

Sheppard looked over at the scientist, but McKay wasn't meeting his eyes. It was almost as if the scientist didn't realize he'd just saved his life...or that the scientist's instinct to grab for him would have sent them both plunging to their deaths if that panel hadn't opened. Either that, or he didn't want to admit it.

"Thanks," he said.

McKay just nodded quickly, head bobbing uncomfortably. Then the scientist was looking inside the small control panel at the crystals that had formed the six lights. Two were red, two yellow, one now steady blue and...Reaching in, he was about to start fiddling with the crystal matrix inside when the last light which had been flashing blue suddenly steadied.

"Oh dear," the scientist noted softly.

The floor undulated one last time, then snapped shut...and the room began to spin.

"Aw shit!" Sheppard yelled, feeling the floor spinning away from him under his feet. McKay yelped, and the two of them lost their footing completely.

—————————————————————

"Hang on!" McKay yelled, fingers gripping the edges of the panel, even as his feet were being swept sideways as the floor. "The force will soon press us to the walls, and..."

"And what?" Sheppard yelled, his own fingers turning white as he tightened his own grip. "Crush us?"

McKay grunted, feeling the pressure building already against his spine, "Yeah."

In the center, Halling and Ford felt like they were in the center of a vacuum, barely moving as the walls blurred around them. Both closed their eyes at the sickening sensation and held on to each other.

"McKay!" Sheppard gasped, feeling the air being pushed from his lungs.

The scientist responded with a grunt, and tried to pull himself up to see more into the panel spinning with them. His arm shook as he tried to lift it, the limb feeling suddenly like it weighed two tons. His head started to throb at the increasing pressure inside his skull, his eyes beginning to water because of the pain.

Sheppard watched through slitted eyes, fighting the same effects of the pressure on his body. McKay's movements were slow...too slow...

They'd die before the scientist could figure this out.

Using all the strength he could muster, he pulled the beretta from his thigh and lifted the gun up to point at the panel.

McKay saw him out of the corner of his eye, his mouth opening to say "NO!" but all sound was lost as Sheppard aimed the pistol.

All McKay had time to do was pull away and close his eyes as Sheppard fired.

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The gun fired three times, the impact of the bullets increased by the force driving them into the panel, and the whole thing erupted in a spectacular explosion of sparks and fire.

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TBC

A/N - The Rotor was an amusement park ride that used to be at Riverside Park in Massachusetts (now Six Flags New England). I don't know if it's still there, but it was very, very cool. It was a cylindrical metal container with a metal floor, and was basically a giant centrifuge. Everyone chose a bit of wall, then it started to spin. Not long after it began, you were stuck to the wall by the centrifugal force, and they'd drop the floor away, leaving you hanging onto nothing. Then it slowed, and you slid down to the floor now three feet or so below--wedgies galore. LOL! I'm not sure how it ended up in this story, but...well...write what you now, eh? And since I know nothing about science, space, wormholes, physics...I can at least create a deadly amusement park ride!

A/N 2 – thanks for the reviews everyone! And how funny on the Star Wars reference! I never even thought about that! Somewhere in the back of my mind, eh? LOL! You do a heart good!


	7. Chapter 7

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

(bowing to pressure from my reviewers, here's seven...hee hee. Thank you guys!)

CHAPTER SEVEN: THE TRUTH ABOUT LEMMINGS

The spinning slowed, the pressure lifting off the two gasping men as they tried to get their breath back. The headaches each now sported drummed away at their skulls, and tremors of pain spiked down from their chests to their legs.

Sheppard took a breath, then a deeper one, until, finally, he felt he could stand up fully again...to the extent he could on the sliver of flat surface at the edge of the floor.

The room finally stilled, and he gave a small smile. Glancing at McKay, he noticed the man looked shaky but otherwise okay...probably feeling about as horrible as he did at the moment. The scientist was flexing the fingers on one hand, obviously working to get the circulation back after their deathgrip on the panel's edge.

"You okay, sir?" Ford asked weakly from his position. The major nodded, looking over at the lieutenant and Halling. The Athosian was out cold.

"You?" he asked.

"Ready to puke, but, hell, I've been on worse rides at Six Flags."

Sheppard laughed, ignoring the pain in his lungs, and then sighed. Thank god.

The radio came to life on his ear, and he answered both Beckett and Elizabeth's questions—telling them they were all alright, but that he'd had to destroy the panel on the inside of the room. That earned a sigh from Grodin, and Weir asked them to standby.

Turning his head, he looked over at McKay.

And found himself on the receiving end of a glare that would have curled the devil's toes.

The major blinked, then gave a smile.

"Is that anyway to look at the man who just saved your life?"

"You, Major, are an _idiot_!" McKay spat, his voice raspy.

Sheppard eyes narrowed, "Excuse me?"

"All I had to do," the scientist indicated the now destroyed panel, "was remove the control crystal. You didn't have to shoot it!"

Sheppard actually felt embarrassed, staring at the destruction he'd caused, "What?"

"If I had needed your help," the scientist repeated, speaking slowly as if to a child, "I would have let you know. My God," McKay looked up at the ceiling, then back at Sheppard, "if your answer to every problem we come across is going to be firing a gun at it, Major, then we're not going to last long out here!"

Sheppard stared at that, then drew himself up, "What the hell are you talking about! We were suffocating! I did what I had to!"

"And what the hell do you think I was doing?" McKay snapped back.

"Hell if I knew! You could have been hitting on it for all I could tell! My way was faster!"

"Faster?"

"Yeah!"

"I repeat, you are an idiot!"

"We're still breathing, aren't we?"

"So?"

"So? That's better than dying in my book, while waiting for you to figure out how to fix something."

McKay's eyes flared with a fury that Sheppard easily matched. For a few moments, neither man spoke, a war of wills rising to a level that was almost as oppressive as the pressure the room had just created.

"Well, Major," McKay said eventually, breaking the silence, "Congratulations. Through sheer stupidity, you've managed to not only trap us in here for, possibly, good, but you've also succeeded in proving my theory that all military heads are morons with some aplomb. Nice job."

Sheppard ground his teeth together, decided this wasn't the time, and looked back at the panel.

He had to admit, it looked bad.

Part of a scorched, dead crystal fell over and clattered inside the now black looking matrix.

Okay...really bad.

"So, you can't fix it, I take it?" he asked finally.

McKay closed his eyes, and, when he opened them, he was looking inside the panel. "With what? My handy sonic screwdriver? No—you destroyed it quite effectively."

"Huh, figures," Sheppard leaned against the wall. At least the floor appeared like it was going to stay closed now. McKay peered back at him out of the corner of his eyes.

"What figures?"

"Things get too hard, you chicken out," the Major replied. "We may be morons, Doctor McKay, but at least we never give up. You, however, appear to have the staying power of a lemming."

McKay stared at him, then frowned, "A lemming? That doesn't even make sense!"

"They run off cliffs!" Sheppard explained.

The scientist rolled his eyes, "Oh for Christ's...that's a myth!"

"They don't run off cliffs?" Sheppard actually looked surprised.

"No!"

"Oh," Sheppard looked down, then up again, "Are you sure? I mean, I thought that was sort of common—"

"Major! Doctor McKay!" Ford called, exasperated, "Please!"

Sheppard looked over at the poor lieutenant, who was straining now that the unconscious Halling wasn't helping, then back at McKay. Grimacing, he turned his eyes to study the inside of the panel. McKay sighed and leaned on the wall next to the opening, staring disconsolately at the damaged crystals and still sparking equipment.

A tiny smile lit on Sheppard's face, and he looked at McKay. The scientist saw him looking, and met his gaze. McKay's eyes narrowed.

"What?"

"C'mon, Doc, this isn't like you. Find another way outta here."

McKay blinked, "I'm sorry? Isn't like me? You don't even know me! You think a couple of conversations and—"

"You told me this morning that you could fix anything—that you even repaired a '74 Ferrari Dino you found in a scrapheap from the dead. Compared to fixing Italian engineering, this has got to be a piece of cake!"

"That's different!"

"You sure?"

"Yes! Did you not hear what I said? This panel is just junk now! No one could—"

"You're the smartest man in two galaxies, right? So, prove it."

McKay's jaw flexed, "Major..."

"Or was Major Carter right about you?" Sheppard gave him a sly look, "You're all frosting and no cake?"

The scientist's eyes widened so much, Sheppard was afraid they would fall out of their sockets.

"You...you...She never...She...Damn it!" McKay clamped his mouth shut, then turned and reached into the panel to start fiddling with the ruined innards for what could be salvaged. Sparks flew, but that just seemed to make McKay madder.

Sheppard smiled smugly and leaned back to wait for the genius to get them out of there.

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TBC


	8. Chapter 8

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

(you knew I couldn't leave poor Ford and Halling dangling forever, NebbyJen! Thanks for the reviews everyone! Keeps me going!)

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CHAPTER EIGHT: IT'S NEVER EASY

"So," Sheppard's eyebrows lifted, checking his watch. It had been about twenty minutes. "How's it going McKay?"

"Shut up," the scientist snapped back.

The eyebrows lifted higher, "Not doing so hot, huh?"

"God, you're annoying," McKay muttered. "Can't you see I'm busy?"

Sheppard watched for a second, but McKay's hands blocked out most of the view inside the panel, so he couldn't tell if there had been any progress. The radio on his ear had gone silent, on standby. No one up in the control room had managed to find a solution, though Weir had said they were working on it. Unfortunately, since the room had spun and stopped at a place where the inner door was no longer flush with the outer door leading to the hallway, it meant Bates and Sanchez not only had to cut through that outer door, but would have to cut right into the wall of the room. And Sanchez said he thought it was too thick to use a blow torch. They considered blowing a hole, but it was a last resort. Meaning, basically, that everyone was waiting on McKay.

The major looked over at Ford and Halling. They were still tied to the metal ring...just in case...but they were no longer suspended. McKay had told them the floor would open again anytime soon, and they took him at his word and lowered themselves down to sit on the floor. Fact was, it didn't look like anything was moving anytime soon. Halling had woken fairly quickly from his faint, and was absently rubbing his leg above the broken bone, looking at it miserably. Ford looked ready to fall asleep, lying on the slanted floor next to Halling with an arm over his eyes.

Sheppard looked at McKay again, "Need any help?"

"Okay, that's it," McKay turned to face him, his cheeks red with annoyance. "Why don't you slide down the floor and join Ford. That way, when I open the floor, you can fall through. Huh? Seem like an idea?"

Sheppard just smiled. McKay's eyes narrowed.

"What?" the scientist asked.

"Sounds like you know you can fix it."

"Of course I can fix it," McKay snapped back quickly. "I can fix anything. Wasn't that the point of this little exercise?" The scientist shook his head, looking back at his handiwork. "In fact, it's fixed."

"Really?"

"Really."

Sheppard stared at the crazy mess of wires, crystals and burnt bits inside the panel. It still looked like a load of toasted crap to him.

"Seriously? You fixed it?"

"Yes."

"Gotta say, doesn't look fixed."

"Major..." There was warning in the tone.

"Right, right, I believe you. Okay then, why don't—"

"But there is a, uh, a small problem."

Sheppard closed his mouth, waiting until McKay turned to meet his eyes. It took the scientist a moment to do that, and when he did, Sheppard knew he wasn't going to like what he had to say.

McKay sighed, then tapped his earpiece. "Grodin?" he called, "Can you hear me?"

"Yes," Peter replied. "We all can."

"Great," Rodney muttered, "an audience." Then he looked at Sheppard, "Okay, here's the thing. I can get this room to rotate to its original position, allowing your men outside to open the door, and then Peter should be able to cut the power to the room completely...Peter, you can do that, right?"

"Yes," Grodin replied.

"Good," McKay had shifted his eyes away from Sheppard when he asked Peter that question over the radio, but now they shifted back, "Once he does that, your men should be able to extricate us without difficulty."

"But?" Sheppard prompted.

McKay nodded, "But...in order to reset the room, it needs to complete the cycle it began."

Sheppard's eyes grew, "What? You mean, with the spinning?" He twirled his finger for emphasis, "McKay, no way we can—"

"No, no, not the spinning," McKay shook his head, indicating the panel, "I've managed to isolate the control pathways for that function and bypass them...or rather, since you blew those parts to bits, I _had_ to bypass them, and I did...I think."

"You think?" the major repeated, brow furrowing.

McKay pursed his lips, "That is, I'm pretty sure."

"Oh, that makes me feel so much better."

The scientist's blue eyes closed, and Sheppard could almost hear the other man mentally counting to ten. Finally, they opened again.

"Put it this way," McKay said, his voice quieter than normal as he stared into the ruined matrix, "I'm wrong, you can shoot that panel again, and I won't call you an idiot this time, okay?"

"Or you're wrong, and we both die."

McKay nodded, "True, but in that case, you'll cease to care, right?"

Sheppard stared at McKay's profile, then, slowly, smiled crookedly. "You're a piece of work, McKay."

"Yeah, so I've been told."

"So, if the spinning wasn't the 'but' part of your explanation...," Sheppard arched an eyebrow, "What was?"

"Well, two things, really." McKay looked back at him, then turned to look at Ford and Halling. "One is that the floor will open again, but fully this time."

That earned a stark silence. Finally, Ford cleared his throat.

"For how long?"

"That's the other thing," McKay nodded, "I don't know. In fact, there are a lot of things I don't know. For example," the scientist looked at the ring, "I have no idea what that ring is for that the two of you have been hanging from. The ceiling braces, I assume, are necessary because the extreme oscillation of the room requires extra support, but that ring..." He shook his head. "I also wonder, if the contents of this room are meant to be dumped, then how does it clean itself of anything that doesn't fall through the hole..." He frowned, and looked back into the panel. "I just don't know what other surprises—"

"Wait, wait," Grodin called over the radio. "When I was looking up information on the room, I found some information about the tippers that take the stuff away."

"The what?" Sheppard asked.

"Dump trucks," the Canadian quickly translated next to him. "The ships that haul the compacted waste away. Go on, Peter. What did you find?"

"Yes, yes, hang on..." Peter's voice faded away, then returned excitedly. "Here we go. The tippers, er, dump trucks, ships...haulers...um...what should I call them?"

"It doesn't matter, Grodin," McKay hissed, "Just keep going."

"Right, the tippers are fully automated. When the room is first activated, the tipper glides underneath, and a mechanical arm reaches up from it and attaches to the ring. That's why the floor initially opened, lieutenant, when you first got there, to allow that arm to connect, but since the tippers haven't been activated yet, there was nothing to connect...Anyway, after the room completes its final spin, the floor opens fully and the waste is dumped into the tipper to haul away to be incinerated. The arm attached to the ring anchors it so it won't shift as it's loaded. Then...ah...um...uh oh."

McKay had been staring vaguely into the panel, while Sheppard watched Ford and Halling. At Peter's "uh oh," they all looked at McKay. If the scientist felt the scrutiny, he didn't notice, just gritted his teeth.

"Peter?" he called into the radio.

"There's, uh..." Peter paused again, then stopped again. Silence met them for another minute, but they could just make out some frantic typing over the comm.

"Grodin!" McKay spat when he couldn't wait any longer.

Peter sighed clearly over the radio, "There's something here about how the tipper also collects the water runoff."

Sheppard arched an eyebrow, "Water runoff? What water runoff?"

———————————————————

McKay's eyes widened, and they flashed to the left and right, absorbing Grodin's pregnant statement for its full meaning. Abruptly, he looked up at where the ceiling touched the edges of the curved wall. There was a gap there. He'd initially assumed it had to do with allowing the walls enough room to spin, but now he realized the gap was too wide.

"What water runoff?" Sheppard repeated, watching McKay, "From where?"

"There," McKay pointed upwards, "It must come out from out the gap between the ceiling and the wall."

"Yeah," Peter started speaking again, almost to himself, "Here we go. Water jets at the top of the walls spray water down the sides to clear any excess waste."

Sheppard was looking up now too, at the now very dangerous looking gap directly over where they were standing.

"That's a problem," McKay noted, his voice quavering slightly, staring at what looked like a spigot directly overhead. He could see it now that he was looking for it.

"Are you saying we will be flushed out of here," Sheppard swallowed, "like a goddamned toilet?"

"Thanks for the image, Major," McKay muttered, lowering his gaze to renew his glare.

"But, Rodney," Peter sounded hopeful now, "As you know, the water filtration and desalination units are the first things we started studying, and the different sections of the city look like they can be isolated. If you can wait a little longer, we might be able to figure out a way to turn the water off in your section."

"Might?"

"That is, I'm pretty sure," Grodin replied cheekily in imitation. McKay snorted.

"But, wait, hang on, here's the thing," Sheppard interjected, eyes narrowing as he too saw the spigot directly over McKay's head. "Will turning off the water stop the jets from blowing?"

"Um," Peter paused again, then, "No. I don't think so."

"So, we may not get washed out of here," Sheppard reiterated, looking at McKay, "but we might still get blown out?"

"Um," another pause, until, finally, "Yes."

The major blew the air out of his cheeks, peering into the panel, "Guess we'll have to find really good handholds then, McKay."

"What about us?" Ford asked, sitting up, his eyes on the two men.

"You should be fine," McKay answered dismissively, looking over at them. "The air will blow down the walls, not the middle." After he said that, he looked at Sheppard. The major was inspecting the inside of the panel, looking for better holds than the thin edges they'd been hanging onto.

"In fact, Major," McKay swallowed, "You, uh...um...you...uh..." The scientist cleared his throat, rubbing at it. Sheppard glanced at him, then continued his search.

"Yeah?"

"You...you...," McKay squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head away, clearing his throat again. "Nothing. Forget about it."

"Okay."

The hand McKay was using to rub his throat tightened around it. His larynx had seized up on him, stopping the words from coming out. He had been about to tell the major he didn't have to risk this with him; that Sheppard could slide down and climb up to hang on the ring with the other two men, safely away from the jets. The ring was large, and there was clearly enough room for all three of them to hang from it...

But he couldn't. Because he didn't want to be by himself. Because he was terrified that the Major would leave him and he'd have to face the possibility of dying alone.

Because...because he was a coward.

Part of him even wanted the triggering of the matrices in the panel to be simple enough for Sheppard to do, so that he could go hang from the ring with Ford and Halling...

God, he really was a selfish bastard—a coward _and_ a heel.

Sheppard glanced at him, and, for a brief second, McKay saw it. The look that said that Sheppard knew exactly what he was thinking. Then, suddenly, the taller man smiled.

"Any chance I can get this to work without you?" Sheppard asked innocently. "Sounds like you would be safer with Ford and Halling."

McKay shook his head, his cheeks reddening, "No. I...couldn't explain it. I need to do it." Sheppard simply nodded and returned to his inspection of the inside of the panel. Nope—there was no question who the real hero was here. McKay opened his mouth again, desperately wanting to be a hero too and tell Sheppard to leave him, but...he just couldn't.

"Inside, up here," Sheppard reached his arm in and up, tapping something, "There's a hidden recess. Feels more secure, more like something we could really grip. We should be able to hang onto it."

Ashamed, McKay just nodded and fiddled with something inside the panel.

Sheppard tapped his radio, "Grodin?"

"Yes, Major?"

"Let us know when you've got that water turned off."

"Yes, Major."

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TBC


	9. Chapter 9

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

(You all crack me up, by the way! Thank you so much!)

CHAPTER NINE: HANGING ON

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"Okay," Grodin called over the radio about ten minutes later. "Water's off."

"Are you ready, Major? Doctor?" Elizabeth added, not hiding the worry in her tone.

"No," McKay replied testily.

Sheppard smiled softly, "But we will be. Standby." He glanced over at Halling and Ford. Ford was already hauling himself back up to the ring. In a few moments, he had Halling up there with him. As soon as they were sure they were as secure as they could be, Ford looked over at the Major.

"Ready when you are, sir," he stated. Sheppard nodded back, and turned to McKay.

"We're ready," he said softly, more to the scientist than anyone else.

"Good luck, gentlemen," Elizabeth offered over the radio, her voice equally soft.

McKay shut his eyes, then opened them. Sheppard leaned into the panel, got a solid grip on the inside with his right hand, and gripped the outside edge of the panel with his left. McKay reached in with his left hand and gripped the same shelf as Sheppard on the inside. His right hovered over the crystals in the board, fingers moving slightly without touching anything.

For a long moment, he didn't move.

"McKay?" Sheppard prompted.

"I know," the scientist hissed. "I know." He sighed, and his fingers depressed a crystal that was orange colored. It lit up as McKay forced the connection. "Here we go."

The room hissed and started to move, and McKay quickly pulled out the orange crystal and grabbed a green one, sliding it into the same place. The wall's motion slowed down but didn't stop turning. McKay held onto the green crystal to keep it in place—it didn't quite fit where he had placed it, but it was doing what he wanted it to do. His eyes were narrowed in concentration, his feet shifting along the thin shelf as they slowly moved. Sheppard just watched, his own toes dancing along the flat edge of the floor as the wall continued to slide. When something clicked, McKay pulled out the green crystal and depressed a blue one on a different side of the panel. The room stopped moving.

"We should be flush with the outer door now," McKay provided, letting go of the blue crystal. It started to flash, then steadied...and every crystal not damaged inside the matrix suddenly came to life. McKay grabbed the edge of the panel with his right hand, "Now hang on!"

He'd barely said the word when, with a sudden whoosh, the floor completely dropped out from under them.

"Yah!" Sheppard yelled, gripping his holds tighter, feet trying to press themselves more tightly against the inch of floor still under his feet, now literally a shelf. When did his feet get so big! The floor had opened fully just like a tulip, the thirty foot wide opening revealing both city and ocean hundreds of feet below. From this height, the sparkling water might as well be concrete. He'd known it was coming, but still..."Damn, we're high," he muttered weakly, unable to stop himself from stating the obvious. For the first time in his life, he understood why some people were afraid of heights.

A gentle breeze lifted at his hair.

"Oh light preserve us," Halling whimpered from his hold on the ring, unable to take his eyes off the blue below. Ford was resolutely not looking down, staring up at the ceiling without blinking. McKay had never taken his eyes off the inside of the panel, eyes catching and mapping every lightening fast connection, tying to keep up with the machinery.

Just then, the room started to vibrate. One of McKay's feet slipped, but he quickly got it back on the edge.

"Damnit, damnit, damnit," the scientist muttered, letting go of the edge with his right hand and reaching into the panel to grab a yellow crystal that was flashing at him.

The walls vibrated more, and Sheppard felt his feet slipping, "McKay!"

"Just hold on!" the scientist yelled back, "I think it's..." he wrenched out the yellow crystal, and the walls stopped vibrating, "this one that's making us shake," he finished, smiling over at Sheppard, dead crystal in hand as if holding a prize. "See? Not a pro—"

And that's when the air jets came on. McKay cried out in terror as wind as strong as a hurricane blew straight down on his position, and his feet slipped completely off the floor. His right hand flew out, the yellow crystal dropping from his fingers. It caught the sunlight as it fell, sparkling as it dwindled in size, finally disappearing as it blended with the reflected sun off the waves below.

The only reason he didn't fall with it was because of the grip he had with his left hand on the inside of the panel...and Sheppard's sudden grip on the back of his jacket. The major had grabbed at the beige cotton right at McKay's neck with his left hand, fingers winding into the material, his hold as tight as a mother cat's on the scruff of one of its kitten's necks. Sheppard groan grew into a roar as he used all his strength to pull McKay back up onto the tiny shelf, fighting the wind the entire way, not letting go even as the scientist managed to get his grip back on the edge of the panel with his right hand.

Gasping, McKay reached the shaking right hand into the panel, trusting Sheppard's grip to hold him in place, and grabbed at a blue crystal that was flashing. His entire arm was trembling as he gripped and wrenched it out...then threw it out of the panel, chucking it after the other one he'd dropped.

The air jets stopped blowing.

Still shaking something fierce, McKay grabbed at an orange crystal and shoved it in place of the blue one he'd just pulled out.

The floor started to close, then paused, as if stuck.

McKay swore and reached over and depressed a red crystal, holding it down. It lit up as he forced it to reconnect with the damaged panel.

The floor closed the rest of the way. The red lights inside the panel all came to life, while the rest went dark.

For a moment, none of them moved. None of them even breathed.

"Sergeant Bates," the scientist finally broke the silence, his voice breaking slightly, "the door."

Sheppard turned as, right behind him, the wide door opened, revealing a whole array of marines, medical personnel, and several Athosians, including both Jinto and Teyla.

"It's open!" Bates cheered happily into his mic, looking in at Sheppard and McKay. "Sirs, are you okay?"

"Father!" Jinto called, jumping forward only to be held back by Teyla's firm hands.

"Grodin," McKay sighed, leaning into the panel.

"Already on it," Peter replied over the comm. "There..."

The lights in the panel shut down completely.

"Did that do it?" Peter called. "Up here it says—"

"Yes, yes," McKay replied as he leaned on his arm. "Thank you, Peter."

"Oh thank God," Grodin sighed.

"Are all of you alright?" Elizabeth asked.

McKay looked up, still feeling dazed, and turned to face more of the room. Sheppard still had his grip on the back of his jacket, and was smiling crookedly at him. Turning more, the scientist looked behind him as the marines threw ropes into the room and started sliding down the bowl-like floor to get under the two men still dangling in the middle. Ford was already lowering Halling. Teyla and Jinto both took up positions to help pull the men up on the ropes, the boy calling out questions and reassurances to his father. Teyla's eyes met Halling's across the expanse, and smiled when he offered her a weak one of his own before answering his son. Her eyes then turned to meet Ford's, then Sheppard's and finally, McKay's.

She nodded at each of them, and they each nodded back.

"Yeah," Sheppard said into the radio, finally answering Weir's question, "We're good."

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TBC (just two parts to go!)


	10. Chapter 10

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

(Thanks again to you all! Talk about making my day! Particularly Kate, whom I'm apparently putting out of a job! LOL! You are all making me very happy! Although Evilclone's virtual kittens of death do have me a wee bit nervous. ROFL!)

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CHAPTER TEN: A REALLY BIG FERRARI

Stackhouse and Markham pulled Ford up, grinning and laughing as they helped the tired lieutenant. Ford laughed back, letting them do the work of getting him upright and on solid ground again. Good natured ribbing and lots of back slapping accompanied the men as Ford left with them, headed back up to the main floors. Sheppard and McKay, who had slid back into the hallway on their own, both gave him a respectful nod as he passed by, and Ford grinned back, oddly pleased to get such recognition from both men. Then McKay was talking to Weir and Grodin again on his radio and Sheppard started talking security and maintenance with Bates and Sanchez, and Ford felt oddly disappointed not to be staying with them as his fellow soldiers bustled him back to the stairs.

Beckett and two other medical personnel swirled around as Halling was placed on a gurney, and four marines hefted the tall man onto their shoulders, preparing for the hike up eight flights. Jinto jogged behind them, keeping up a line of chatter as he asked his father what had happened, wanting to make sure he really was all right. Teyla walked with them, though she did look behind her a few times to smile again at Sheppard and McKay. As she disappeared around the corner, she even waved and blew a kiss—apparently having decided it was the earth custom. Sheppard laughed at her antics as Bates arched an eyebrow at him, the sergeant clearly not appreciating the joke.

McKay, meanwhile, had removed himself from the remaining group, moving to lean up against the side of the hallway by himself. Once the bulk of the personnel had gone and all of Elizabeth's questions answered (for now), he unlooped the radio from his ear and slid down until he was sitting against the wall, his arms hanging over his bent legs. He just wanted to sit alone for a few minutes...get his bearings back.

Sheppard watched as the last of his men went, offering a lazy salute to both Bates and Sanchez as they headed off, telling them he'd be along in a minute. Then he turned and moved to stand against the wall next to McKay, taking in the finally quiet and empty hallway. A moment later, he was sitting down next to the scientist, imitating the man's posture of laying his arms over his knees.

McKay lifted his head, turning it to offer a bewildered look at the major, not sure why the other man was still there.

Sheppard just blew the air out of his cheeks, staring up at the ceiling above.

"You doing okay?" he asked softly.

The scientist's eyebrows lifted, "Me?"

The major glanced at him askance, "Yeah."

McKay thought about that for a moment, then shook his head, "Actually, no. I'm feeling kinda nauseous."

Sheppard snorted a laugh, "Me too. Shouldn't have eaten the sausage in that MRE this morning. Never a good idea. Remind me never to let Bates cook again." He laughed some more.

McKay smiled in return, then let it fade, leaning his head on one arm so he could look more squarely at the man next to him. Unbidden and without warning, the guilt and shame he'd felt earlier hit him full force, causing him to frown deeply. For some reason, the scientist couldn't gloss over them as he normally did, the feelings just growing in strength the more he tried to repress them. He found he had an almost desperate need to apologize, to explain, and to obtain some sort of measure of respect back from this man. Because right now, he didn't feel he deserved that respect, even if Sheppard were to offer it. He recognized the feeling—it was the same one that had led him to apologize to Samantha Carter all those years ago. It eluded him as to why he now felt the need to apologize to Major Sheppard, but...it suddenly seemed incredibly important that he do so.

Sheppard's laughter lessened to a chuckle, and he eyed McKay. His brow furrowed at the other man's scrutiny.

"What?"

The scientist grimaced, face pinching as if in pain. "I need to tell you something. You...," his eyes fell, "You could have joined Halling and Ford, before I triggered the room to reset, you know. You didn't have to stay with me, and risk slipping—"

"Yes I did."

"No, you didn't. And I...I wanted to tell you, but—"

"Doctor McKay," Sheppard's smile was long gone, "despite your impression of me, I am not an idiot. Of course I knew I didn't have stay with you. But you needed help."

"Help? No, that's just it. I was the only one who needed—"

"Not that kind of help. This may come as a surprise, Doctor, but I'm not here for my health. My job is to protect you. To do what needs to be done, so that you can do what you need to do. You needed to work that panel to save all of us, and I needed to be there so you could."

McKay stared at him for a long moment, then lifted his head off his arm to stare at the corridor wall opposite.

"Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.'"

"Thanks."

"Not a problem."

They sat in silence for another minute, before a wry smile lit McKay's lips.

"And you're right...you're not an idiot," the scientist admitted. Sheppard snorted another derisive laugh, so McKay quickly added: "Of course, at the time, you were an idiot, but not as a whole. Thing is, you have to learn that I tend to react to things a certain way and that I tend to say things that I don't—"

"I know."

McKay looked surprised, "You do? How?"

"I just do."

"Oh." McKay looked at the wall again, then glanced again at the major. "That mean you're still reserving judgment?" he asked, his voice hopeful.

The major smiled, but shook his head. "No."

"Oh," McKay sighed, disappointed.

"No, McKay," Sheppard said, hitting the other man's leg, "It's a good thing."

McKay stared at him for a moment, then started to smile. Then, as if suddenly remembering, he said, "Oh, by the way, before I forget, thanks for saving my life. Grabbing my jacket like that...thanks."

"Oh that?" Sheppard shrugged, "Pish-tosh."

McKay laughed; he couldn't help himself. "Pish-tosh?"

Sheppard grinned, "Tit-for-tat. You saved my life, I saved yours, we saved theirs, it's all cyclical." He shrugged, "I have a feeling it'll quickly become par for the course."

McKay nodded, still grinning, "Yeah, probably."

"Besides, we weren't in any real danger. I knew you could fix that thing."

"Ha," McKay snorted.

"Are you kidding? You fixed a junked Ferrari, that's—"

"Ah, right, about that." McKay sighed, "I may have exaggerated a little this morning. I didn't really fix the Ferrari."

Sheppard arched an eyebrow. The scientist gave a sheepish smile, not quite meeting his eyes.

"I tried. I just," McKay shrugged, "I never had the right parts. I just couldn't afford them. I kept finding parts in junkyards, welding them into close approximations of what I needed, and using those. But they never quite worked. The car...never really worked the way it should." McKay was staring down at the floor now, his shoulders slumping. "I did my best, but it...never really was...what it had been." His eyes lifted, and he looked up at the ceiling. "And now, here we are...and this is a really..._big_...Ferrari." He swallowed, resting the back of his head against the wall and closing his eyes.

Sheppard stared at him, then nodded. Feeling inadequate was something the major knew well, but he hadn't expected to hear the egotistical Doctor Rodney McKay admit to it also. Maybe that was it...why he felt so comfortable with this man. Because underneath...

"First of all," he said softly, watching as McKay's eyes opened slightly in response to his tone, "this isn't a Ferrari. It's more like a Rolls Royce or a Bentley with the engine of a top of the line jet fighter—puts a mere Ferrari to shame. Second," Sheppard leaned forward a little so he could see more of McKay's eyes, "you have all the right parts this time."

McKay turned to peer at the major, his brow furrowed.

Sheppard reached a hand over and tapped the other man's skull. "Right there, dumbass." Then he shoved at McKay's head, nearly sending him sprawling. "That's all you need."

McKay rubbed at his head, trying not to grin at the major as he resettled himself, "That wasn't necessary," he pretended to whine. "You didn't have to hit me."

"Yeah, I did. You so had that coming."

McKay shook his head, not rising to the jibe. "But I will admit," he replied finally, a smug smile growing on his face, "you make a good point. I am the smartest man here. If I can't figure it out, no one can." He puffed up as he spoke.

"Exactly."

"Although...a ZPM would be helpful."

Sheppard shrugged, "True, there is that."

"On a side note," McKay pursed his lips, "that is the first time I think in my entire life that anyone has ever called me 'dumb.' Geek, nerd, jerk, asshole...those I'm familiar with, but not 'dumb.'"

"Maybe you need to hear it more often," Sheppard grinned.

"You going to be the one to tell me?"

Sheppard shrugged, "Oh, I think I could manage that." He grinned.

McKay laughed, and Sheppard soon joined him. After a while, McKay quieted, looking up at the ceiling again, as if he could see through it all the way back to the control room eight flights up. He sighed.

"Well, I expect Elizabeth will be wondering where we are. We should probably..." Suddenly his eyes widened, panic crossing his features as his hands went to attack his pockets. His left hand grasped the shield device in his pocket, and he audibly sighed in relief. Pulling it out, he peered at it for a moment, the still dead device resting on his palm.

Sheppard, confused, reached out to take it. "What's that?"

McKay quickly drew the device back, holding it to his chest, "It's...," he frowned, then shrugged. "Actually, it's supposedly a personal shield device of some kind."

Sheppard arched an eyebrow, "A what?"

McKay smiled crookedly, holding it out again for Sheppard to see, "A personal shield device. Once activated by someone with the gene, it's supposed to generate some sort of force field around the wearer that will make them invulnerable."

Sheppard's eyes widened, "Invulnerable?"

"Yes, theoretically," McKay quickly tucked it away back in his pocket. "Had I been wearing it and fallen through that floor, I supposedly wouldn't have been hurt by the impact." His eyes were lit up, "According to the database, it—"

"Wait," the major tilted his head, "Someone with the gene? But I thought you didn't have the gene."

"Ah," McKay grabbed his right arm, shoving up the sleeve to reveal the small bandage on his arm. "Beckett gave me an injection earlier, part of his gene therapy. I'm the first human trial."

The patented Sheppard eyebrow arch grew even higher, "You're kidding."

"Nope. According to Beckett, we should know in about four hours if it works. No, wait...," McKay tipped his arm towards him, noting the time on his watch, "Three hours now." He looked back at Sheppard, "If, uh...if the gene therapy works," he smiled openly, "want to help me test the shield device?"

Sheppard grinned, finding the other man's enthusiasm infectious, "I'd love to."

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TBC (just one more...)


	11. Chapter 11

**CHOOSING HIS TEAM** by Tipper

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CHAPTER ELEVEN: CHOOSING HIS TEAM

Twenty four hours later, the energy monster had been sent through the wormhole, McKay and Ford were both in the infirmary, having both proven themselves once again, and Teyla had shown herself able to be part of the decision making for Atlantis as if she had been meant to be part of it all along.

As Sheppard walked towards the infirmary, he found himself unable to stop thinking about the three of them. He still didn't really know them—their pasts, their dreams, their skills—and yet, at the same time, he somehow felt that he knew everything about them.

He didn't understand it, but then, there were lots of things he didn't understand. Some things, he thought, just _were._

He looked up when he saw a shadow looming in the hallway just outside the infirmary area, and couldn't not smile when he recognized Halling sitting on a bench with Jinto. The boy was asleep, leaning on his father's arm. The major stopped, smiling down at the tall man as Halling looked up to meet his gaze.

Halling smiled as well.

"How is he?" Sheppard whispered, pointing to the boy.

"Oh, he is fine," Halling replied, also whispering. "A little wiser, but then," he indicated his leg, "so is his father."

"Yeah," the major shrugged, "I think we all are. Which reminds me, Sergeant Markham wanted me to pass on his apology to you. He let me know he was the one to activate the panel that—"

"Please tell him it was not his fault," Halling said, holding up his hand and shaking his head. "I was overeager to explore the Great City. Plus, I should be thanking him, because I learned a great deal from the experience." He gave a sheepish smile, "Such as...even the Ancestors can make mistakes."

Sheppard's eyebrows shot up, "What?"

"They should have put a handle on this inside of that doorway, to allow people who are trapped in that circular room to exit."

Sheppard chuckled, nodding, "Yeah, that's what McKay said. Actually, he said they did, but I sort of shot it off."

Halling laughed, "Oh, yes, I had forgotten about that." He shrugged, then lowered his head, his smile fading. "But even so, I also learned something even more important than that..." He looked up, his eyes thoughtful, "Thanks to you and your men, Major, I have learned that the Ancestors...were also human. They even generated waste." He smiled at that, then looked up at the ceiling, "They were a truly great people...but they were still just people. And that has made me feel closer to them than I ever have." His eyes met Sheppard's again, "That is a gift I can never truly repay you for."

The major met the gaze evenly, not sure how to respond to that. Luckily, Halling spoke again before he had to.

"We all have a great deal to learn, Major," the Athosian stated quietly, "it will be a great journey that we have begun here."

"Yes, I know," Sheppard agreed, matching the solemn tone. "Thank you, Halling."

"Thank you, Major." He looked down at his sleeping son, and jostled him a little to wake him. "And now Jinto and I need to get to sleep. We were hoping to see Lieutenant Ford, but I fear the lieutenant will not awake again tonight. Jinto?" he shook the boy a little harder, and Jinto snorted, grumbling about not wanting to get up. "Wake up, Jinto," Halling spoke more sternly, and the tone got through. Jinto blinked and yawned, then looked up at his father. When the eyes found Sheppard, his face split into a huge smile.

"Hi Major!"

"Hi Jinto. Feeling better?"

"Are you kidding? I am great! I cannot wait to—"

"Yes, yes," Halling tipped the boy off of him and onto his feet, "Time for us to go, son."

"Go?" Jinto's face fell, and he looked behind him at the closed infirmary door, "But..."

"You can see the lieutenant tomorrow."

Jinto looked disappointed, but didn't disagree. He smiled again at Sheppard, "And you too?"

Sheppard nodded, ruffling the boy's hair. "Sure, kid. See you tomorrow."

Jinto grinned, then yawned again. Halling laughed, pushing up onto his crutches, and both Athosians bid Sheppard goodbye. The major waved until they were out of sight, then looked back at the infirmary door.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up to it and opened it with a thought. The ward inside was quiet, the lights dimmed to indicate that it was evening. Beckett's eyes flashed up from where he was reading something on a laptop, and the Scot smiled. Sheppard waved back, but kept moving.

Rounding a corner, he nearly ran into a tall, dark-skinned doctor who blushed as the near collision caused the young man to drop a bunch of papers on the floor.

"Sorry, Major," the doctor whispered, squatting down to pick them up, "I didn't see you there."

"It was my fault," Sheppard replied just as quietly, bending down to help and quickly collecting the papers together. "I wasn't looking." He tilted his head as he tipped the papers he'd gathered into the other man's arms. "I met you earlier, right? You're the one who came and took care of McKay in the Gateroom. It's Doctor...?" he paused, lifting his eyebrows. The black doctor grinned, standing up and Sheppard joined him.

"Yes," he held his hand out, "We met earlier. I'm Doctor Na—"

"Major!" McKay's voice called loudly across the infirmary, where he was lying propped up on a bed, "Did you bring any food?"

Sheppard laughed as the nurse near McKay quickly shushed him, admonishing him to be quiet.

"Oh please," McKay snapped back. "You've got Ford so doped up, he couldn't hear me even if he wanted to."

"Don't be so sure," Ford mumbled from where he was lying on a nearby bed. "I'm pretty sure Doctor Weir heard you up in the control room."

"Ford!" McKay called gleefully, "You're awake!"

"Not by choice," the lieutenant grumped.

Sheppard had been gripping the young doctor's hand, but he let go, patting the man on the arm and laughing. "I'm sure McKay's been fun to have in here, eh?"

"Believe me, he makes a child hyped up on too much sugar look peaceful," the doctor replied, rolling his eyes. "Good luck." And with that, the man slid around Sheppard and disappeared.

Sheppard shook his head, walking up between the beds. "You two been having fun?"

McKay sat up, "Seriously, did you bring food? All I've managed to get out of these horror house custodians is water and soup. I feel like I'm in prison—a scary Scottish prison!" He yelled this last bit, intending it for a certain person's ears. "You hear me, Beckett? Cruel and unusual punishment! I need food!" He looked back at Sheppard, his eyes bright, "You got a tin cup I can rattle against the bed frame?"

"Please sir," Ford moaned, making a show of covering his ears, "Make it stop."

Sheppard laughed again, reaching over to pat the young man's hand. "Ford, I wish I could. Sadly, it's something we're all going to have to get used to."

"Oh, ha ha," McKay grumped, crossing his arms. "Here I am, starving, wasting away to nothing, and all you two can do is make jokes."

Just then, someone cleared their throat behind Sheppard, and the major turned. McKay and Ford both turned to see who it was, and Ford grinned. Teyla smiled back...and held up what looked like pudding cup.

"I brought this from the kitchens. Doctor Beckett said I could let Doctor McKay have it—in fact, he encouraged me to give it to you as soon as possible."

"You are a life saver, Teyla!" McKay grinned, "Toss it over!" She did, and he quickly pulled off the foil cover. He blinked at it a little, then looked up. By then, Teyla was alongside his bed, and she handed him the spoon he needed. "Thanks," he grinned, quickly digging in.

"You're welcome," she said. "Actually," she looked up, taking all three in with her gaze, "I have really come to offer you my gratitude. I wanted to thank the three of you formally for what you—"

"Pish-tosh," McKay said, his mouth filled with chocolate pudding. Teyla blinked, and she looked at him, confused.

"What?"

"He means," Sheppard translated, eyeing McKay with a knowing smile, "that you have nothing to thank us for. In fact, we should be the ones thanking you. Your idea of sending the energy being through the gate probably saved all our asses."

"Yup," Ford added. When they looked at him, he shrugged, "What? Stackhouse told me all about it."

"Nevertheless," Teyla said, trying to draw the conversation back to her more serious purpose. "On behalf of the Athosian people, I—"

"Thanks accepted and returned," McKay said, swallowing down another spoonful of pudding. "Now, to business." He held up the now empty pudding cup, "I'm going to need more pudding. So which one of you clever people wants to get it for me?" He lifted both eyebrows. When Sheppard started laughing, McKay pretended to look annoyed, crossing his arms. "I'm not kidding. You think I'm kidding?"

"He's not kidding, sir," Ford noted. "Believe me, I've seen him nag at least three nurses and one doctor into submission since I've been here." Sheppard laughed harder, and McKay tried very hard not to smile, resulting in a very strange expression on his face.

Teyla stepped back a little from the bed, watching them, and found her own lips lifting. McKay looked at her.

"Think you can steal more pudding?" he asked.

She grinned. "You will not let me thank you," she said, "will you?"

"Pish-tosh!" all three men replied. Teyla laughed, shaking her head in mock dismay as she looked at McKay again.

The scientist arched an eyebrow at her, "Tell you what, Teyla, you get me more pudding, and I'll let you do anything you like."

"Hey," Sheppard cut in, "None of that. No Athosian baiting!"

"Oh, I would not worry, Major," Teyla arched her own eyebrow at McKay, not falling for his false innocence, "If it is clever enough, the fish can pull even the strongest fisherman into the water."

"Hey," Ford finally sat up, his eyes bright, "An Athosian saying! Very cool! What does it mean?"

"I think it means," Sheppard said, perching on the edge of the lieutenant's bed, "We'd better be prepared to get our feet wet."

"Either that," McKay shrugged, "Or the Athosians are really bad fishermen."

Teyla laughed, and as the antics continued, she soon forgot why she had come, easily keeping up with the three men as they traded barbs...as if they'd been doing it all their lives.

At some point in the evening, the major had quieted, happy just to watch them, his eyes catching each in turn. Before him was the soldier who would watch his back and take charge if necessary, the diplomat who could calm any situation down, and who was clearly pretty damn good in a fight, and, last, the genius scientist who would pull their asses out of the fire, though he'd probably complain the entire time he was doing it. Someone he trusted, someone he believed in, someone who would come through when needed...and, most importantly, someone who could take a joke...and better yet, send it right back.

His team.

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The next day, Sheppard was knocking on the glass wall outside Weir's office, to get her attention. She looked up, her eyes curious as she saw the pleased expression on his face. He looked a little too smug for first thing in the morning.

"Yes, Major?"

"I've been thinking about what you asked me the other night," he said, walking inside and sitting opposite her, "at the party."

"Oh? And what was that?"

"About who the members of my team will be," he replied, leaning forward on his knees. "Funny thing is, I'm not sure I ever really had a choice."

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End

Hope you liked it! And thank you to everyone who left reviews. Can't tell you what it means to me. And remember, always tip your waiters! For some, that's their main source of income. LOL!


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